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Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose;
Thou myghtest have learned thy cloth to flocke
Yet faue that foule, that God hath bought,
45 Synge, &c.
God faue kyng Henry with all his power,
Synge trolle on awaye, syng trolle on away.
. 41. Cromwell's father is generally said to bave been a Blacksmith at Putney: but the author of this Ballod would infinuate that either be bimself or some of his ancestors were Fullers by trade.
+++ The foregoing Piece gave rise to a poetic controversy, which was carried on thro' a succession of seven or eight Ballads written for and against Lord Cromwell. These are all preserved in the archives of the Antiquarian Society, in a large folio Collection of Proclamations, &c. made in the Reigns of K. Hen. VIII. K. Edw.VI. 2. Mary, 2. Eliz. K. James I. & C.
H A R P A L U S.
AN ANCIENT ENGLISH PASTOR AL.
This beautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt at paftoral writing in our language, is preserved among the SONGS AND SONNETTES of the earl of Surrey, &c. 4to. in that part of the collection, which confifts of pieces by UNCERTAIN AUCTOURS. These poems were first published in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell a victim to the tyranny of Henry VIII: but it is presumed most of them were composed before the death of fir Thomas Wyatt in 1541. See Surrey's Poems, 4to. fol. 19, 49.
Tho* written perhaps near half a century before the SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR *, this will be found far superior te any of those Eclogues, in natural unaffeeted sentiments, in fimplicity of Ryle, in easy flow of versification, and all other beauties of pastoral poetry. Spenser ought to have profiter more by fo excellent a model.
HYLIDA was a faire mayde,
As as any ;
Harpalus, and eke Corin,
Were herdmen both yfere :
And thereto sing full clere.
* First published in 1579.
Harpalus prevailed nought,
His labour all was loft ;
And yet he loved her most.
Therefore waxt he both pale and leane,
And drye as clot of clay :
His colour gone away.
His beard it had not long be shave;
His heare hong all unkempt :
Whom spitefull love had spent.
His eyes were red, and all • forewacht';
His face besprent with teares :
In mids of his difpaires.
His clothes were blacke, and also bare;
As one forlorpe was he; ; Upon his head alwayes he ware
Ą wreath of wyllow tree.
His beastes he kept upon the hyll,
And he late in the dale;
He gan to tell his tale.
Oh Harpalus! (thus would he say)
Unhappieft under funne!
By love was first begunne.
For thou wentest first by sute to seeke
A tigre to make tame,
But makes thy griefe her game.
As easy it were for to convert
The frost into 'a' fame;
Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.
Wer. 33. &c. The Corrections are from Ed. 1574.
Corin he liveth carèléffe:
He leapes among the leaves :
Thou - reapít', he takes the sheaves,
My beaftes, a whyle your foode refraine,
And harke your herdmans founde: Whom spitefull love, alas ! hath Naine,
Through-girt with many a wounde,
O happy be ye, beastès wilde,
That here your pasture takes ; 1 fe that ye be not begilde
Of these your faithfull makes,
The hart he feedeth by the hinde;
The bucke harde by the do: The turtle dove is not unkinde
To him that loves her fo.
The ewe she hath by her the ramme:
The yong cow hath the bull: The calfe with many a lusty lambe
Do fede their hunger full.
But, wel-away! that nature wrought
The, Phylida, fo faire;