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The night discharged of all care, And every thought did shew so lyvely in Where wine the wit may not oppress. myne eyes,

That now I sight, and then I smilde, as The faithful wife, without debate;

cause of thoughts did ryse. Such sleeps as may beguile the night;

I saw the little boy, in thought how oft Contented with thine own estate,

that he Ne wish for death, ne fear his might. Did wishe of God, to scape the rod, a tall

young man to be,

The young man eake that feles his bones GIVE PLACE, YE LOVERS.

with paines opprest Give place, ye lovers, here before How he would be a riche old man, to That spent your boasts and brags in live and lye at rest; vain;

The riche olde man that sees his end My lady's beauty passeth more

draw on so sore, The best of yours, I dare well sayen, How he would be a boy againe to live so Than doth the sun the candlelight,

much the more. Or brightest day the darkest night; Whereat full oft I smylde, to see how all

those three And thereto hath a troth as just

From boy to man, from man to boy, As had Penelope the fair;

would chop and change degree. For what she saith ye may it trust, And musing thus, I think, the case is As it by writing sealed were;

very strange, And virtues hath she many mo'

That man from wealth, to live in wo, Than I with pen have skill to show.

doth ever seke to change. I could rehearse, if that I would,

Thus thoughtfull as I lay, I sawe my

withered skyn, The whole effect of Nature's plaint, When she had lost the perfect mould,

How it doth shew my dented chewes,

the flesh was worn so thin, The like to whom she could not paint. With wringing hands, how did she cry!

And eke my tootheless chaps, the gates And what she said, I know it aye.

of my right way,

That opes and shuttes, as I do speak, I know she swore, with raging mind,

do thus unto me say: Her kingdom only set apart,

The white and horish heres, the messenThere was no loss by law of kind

gers of age, That could have gone so near her

That shew like lines of true belief, that

this life doth assuage, heart; And this was chiefly all her pain, Biddes thee lay hand, and feele them “She could not make the like again.” hanging on thy chin.

The whiche doth write to ages past, the Sith Nature thus gave her the praise

third now coming in; To be the chiefest work she wrought, Hang up therefore the bitte, of thy yong In faith, methink, some better ways

wanton tyme, On your behalf might well be sought, And thou that therein beaten art, the Than to compare, as ye have done,

happiest life defyne. To match the candle with the sun. Whereat I sighed, and sayde, farewell

my wonted toye,

Trusse up thy packe, and trudge from HOW NO AGE IS CONTENT

me, to every little boy, WITH ITS OWN ESTATE.

And tell them thus from me, their time LAYD in my quiet bed in study as I were, most happy is, I saw within my troubled head, a heap If to theyr time they reason had, to of thoughts appear,

know the truth of this.

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Short was his gown, with sleevés long GOOD COUNSEL OF CHAUCER. and wide;

Fly from the press," and dwell with Well could he sit on horse, and fairé soothfastness; ride.

Suffice unto thy good, though it be He couldé songés well make, and indite, small, Joust, and ee lance, and well pourtray For hoard? hath hate, and climbing and write.

tickleness;3 So hot he loved, that by nightertale Preise 4 hath envie, and weal is blent He slept ro inore than đath the nightin. o'er all. • gale. :::

Savor no more than thee behoven shall, Courteoủs he°was; lowly and serviceable, Rede 6 well thy self that other fold can’st And carved before his father at the table. rede,

And Truth thee shalt deliver - 'tis no

drede.? ARCITA'S DYING ADDRESS.

That thee is sent receive in buxomness : • ALAS, the wo! alas, the painés strong

The wrestling of this world, asketh a That I for you have suffered, and so long!

fall. Alas, the death ! - alas, mine Emelie !

Here is no home, here is but wilderness. Alas, departing of our company!

Forth, pilgrim, forth —-on, best out of Alas, mine herté's queen! - alas, my

thy stall, wife,

Look up on high, and thank the God Mine herté's lady - ender of my life!

of all! What is this world? What axen men to

Weivith 8 thy lust, and let thy ghosto have?

thee lead, Now with his love, now in his coldé

And Truth thee shalt deliver — 'tis no grave

drede. Alone! withouten any company,

1 The crowd. 4 Commendation. 7 Fear. Farewell, my sweet ! — farewell, mine

2 Treasure. 5 Desire.

8 Subdue. Emelie?”

3 Uncertainty.

6 Counsel. 9 Spirit.

THE EARL OF SURREY.

1517–1547 [Henry HOWARD was the eldest son of Thomas Earl of Surrey, by his second wife, the Lady Elizabeth Stafford, daughter of Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham. The date and place of his birth are alike unknown. It probably occurred in 1517. He became Earl of Surrey on the accession of his father to the dukedom of Norfolk in 1524. The incidents of his early life are buried in obscurity; the incidents of his later life rest on evidence rarely trustworthy and frequently apocryphal. He was beheaded on Tower Hill January 21, 1547, nominally on a charge of high treason, really in consequence of having fallen a victim to a Court intrigue, the particulars of which it is now impossible to unravel. With regard to the chronology of his various poems we have nothing to guide us. Though they were extensively circulated in manuscript during his lifetime, they were not printed till June, 1557, when they made their appearance, together with Wyatt's poems and several fugitive pieces by other authors, in Tottel's Miscellany.]

THE MEANS TO ATTAIN HAPPY

LIFE. [Translated from Martial.] MARTIAL, the things that do attain

The happy life be these, I find; The riches left, not got with pain,

The fruitful ground, the quiet mind.

The equal friend, no grudge, no strife,

No charge of rule nor governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;

The household of continuance.
The mean diet, no delicate fare;

True wisdom joined with simpleness;

The night discharged of all care, And every thought did shew so lyvely in Where wine the wit may not oppress. myne eyes,

That now I sight, and then I smilele, as The faithful wife, without debate;

cause of thoughts did ryse. Such sleeps as may beguile the night; I saw the little boy, in thought how oft Contented with thine own estate,

that he Ne wish for death, ne fear his might. Did wishe of God, to scape the rod, a tall

young man to be, GIVE PLACE, YE LOVERS.

The young man eake that feles his bones

with paines opprest GIVE place, ye lovers, here before How he would be a riche old man, to That spent your boasts and brags in live and lye at rest; vain;

The riche olde man that sees his end My lady's beauty passeth more

draw on so sore, The best of yours, I dare well sayen, How he would be a boy againe to live so Than doth the sun the candlelight,

much the more. Or brightest day the darkest night; Whereat full oft I smylde, to see how all

those three And thereto hath a troth as just

From boy to man, from man to boy, As had Penelope the fair;

would chop and change degree. For what she saith ye may it trust,

And musing thus, I think, the case is As it by writing sealed were;

very strange, And virtues hath she many mo'

That man from wealth, to live in wo, Than I with pen have skill to show.

doth ever seke to change. I could rehearse, if that I would,

Thus thoughtfull as I lay, I sawe my

withered skyn, The whole effect of Nature's plaint, When she had lost the perfect mould,

How it doth shew my dented chewes,

the flesh was worn so thin, The like to whom she could not paint.

And eke my tootheless chaps, the gates With wringing hands, how did she cry! And what she said, I know it aye.

of my right way,

That opes and shuttes, as I do speak, I know she swore, with raging mind,

do thus unto me say: Her ki gdom only set apart,

The white and horish heres, the messenThere was no loss by law of kind

gers of age, That could have gone so near her

That shew like lines of true belief, that heart;

this life doth assuage, And this was chiefly all her pain,

Biddes thee lay hand, and feele them "She could not make the like again.” hanging on thy chin.

The whiche doth write to ages past, the Sith Nature thus gave her the praise

third now coming in; To be the chiefest work she wrought, Hang up therefore the bitte, of thy yong In faith, methink, some better ways

wanton tyme, On your behalf might well be sought, And thou that therein beaten art, the Than to compare, as ye have done,

happiest life defyne. To match the candle with the sun. Whereat I sighed, and sayde, farewell

my wonted toye,

Trusse up thy packe, and trudge from HOW NO AGE IS CONTENT

me, to every little boy, WITH ITS OWN ESTATE.

And tell them thus from me, their time Layd in my quiet bed in study as I were,

most happy is, I saw within my troubled head, a heap If to theyrtime they reason had, to of thoughts appear,

know the truth of this.

be tryde

SIR THOMAS WYATT.

1503-1542. [THOMAS WYATT, the eldest son of Sir Henry Wyatt, a baronet of ancient family, was born at Allington Castle, in Kent, in 1503. In the Court of Henry VIII. he soon became a conspicuous figure, famous for his wit, his learning, his poetical talents, his linguistic attainments, his skill in athletic exercises, his fascinating manners and his handsome person. From a courtier he developed into a statesman and a diplomatist, and in the duties incident to statesmanship and diplomacy most of his life was passed. He died at Sherborne, while on his road to Falmouth, and was buried there October 11, 1542.

His poems were first printed in Tottel's Miscellany in 1557.] A DESCRIPTION OF SUCH A ONE Some pleasant houres thy wo may wrap, AS HE COULD LOVE,

and thee defend and cover.

Thus in this trust, as yet it hath my life A FACE that should content me won

sustained, derous well,

But now (alas) I see it faint, and I by Should not be fatt, but lovely to behold,

trust am trayned. Of lively look all griefe for to repell

The tyme doth flete, and I see how the With right good grace so would I that

hours do bende, it should.

So fast that I have scant the space to Speak without word, such words as none

marke my coming end. can tell;

Westward the sunn from out the east Her tress also should be of crisped gold.

scant shewd his lite, With wit and these, perchaunce I might When in the west he hies him straite

within the dark of night And knit againe with knot that should

And comes as fast, where he began his not slide.

path awry, From east to west, from west to east, so

doth his journey lye. COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE

Thy lyfe so short, so frayle, that morOF HIS LOVE.

tall men lyve here, Soe feeble is the thred that doth the Soe great a weight, so heavy charge the burden stay,

bodyes that we bere, Of my poor life in heavy plight that That when I think upon the distance

falleth in decay, That but it have elsewhere some ayde | That doth so farre divide me from thy or some succours,

dere desired face, The running spindle of my fate anon I know not how t'attaine the winges shall end his course.

that I require, For since the unhappy houre that dyd To lyft me up that I might fly to follow me to depart,

my desyre. From my sweet weale one only hoape Thus of that hope that doth my lyfe hath stayed my life apart,

somethyng susteyne, Which doth perswade such words unto Alas I fear, and partly feel full little my sored mynde,

doth remaine. Maintaine thy selfe, wofull wight, Eche place doth bring me griefe where some better luck to find.

I doe not behold, For though thou be deprived from thy Those lively eyes which of my thoughts, desired sight

were wont the keys to hold. Who can thee tell, if thy returne before Those thoughts were pleasant sweet thy more delight;

whilst I enjoy'd that grace, Or who can tell thy loss if thou mayst My pleasure past, my present pain, when once recover,

I might well embrace.

and the space,

And for because my want should more And with my teares t'assy to charge my woe increase,

myne eyes twayne, In watch and sleep both day and night Like as my hart above the brink is my will doth never cease.

fraughted full of payne. That thing to wishe whereof synce I did And for because thereto, that these fair lose the sight,

eyes do treate, Was never thing that mought in ought | Do me provoke, I will returne, my plaint my wofull hart delight.

thus to repeate; Th’ uneasy life I lead doth teach me for For there is nothing els, so toucheth me to mete,

within, The floods, the seas, the land, the hills, Where they rule all, and I alone, nought that doth them intermete,

but the case or skin. Twene me and those shene lights that Wherefore I shall returne to them as wonted for to clere,

well or spring, My darked pangs of cloudy thoughts as From whom descends my mortall wo, bright as Phebus sphere;

above all other thing. It teacheth me also, what was my pleas- So shall myne eyes in paine accompany ant state,

my heart, The more to feele by such record how That were the guides, that did it lead of that my welth doth bate.

love to feel the smart. If such record (alas) provoke the in The crisped gold that doth surmount flamed mynde,

Appolloe's pride, Which sprung that day that I dyd leave The lively streames of pleasant starrs that the best of me behynde,

under it doth glyde, If love forgeat himselfe by length of Wherein the beames of love doe still absence let,

increase theire heate, Who doth me guid (O wofull wretch) Which yet so far touch me to near in cold unto this baited net:

to make me sweat, Where doth encrease my care, much The wise and pleasant take, so rare or better were for me,

else alone, As dumm as stone all things forgott, still That gave to me the curties gyft, that absent for to be.

earst had never none. Alas the clear christall, the bright tran Be far from me alas, and every other

splendant glasse, Doth not bewray the colours hid which I might forbear with better will, then underneath it hase.

this that did me bring. As doth the accumbred sprite the With pleasand woord and cheer, redress thoughtfull throwes discover,

of lingred payne, Of teares delyte of fervent love that in And wonted oft in kindled will, to vertue our hartes we cover,

me to trayne. Out by these eyes, it sheweth that ever Thus am I forc'd to hear and hearken

more delight; In plaint and teares to seek redress, and My cor fort scant, my large desire in eke both day and night.

douwtful trust renews. Those kindes of pleasures most wherein And yet with more delight to move my

men soe rejoice, To me they do redouble still of stormy I must complaine these hands, those sighes the voice.

armes, that firmly do embrace, For, I am one of them, whom plaint Me from myself, and rule the sterne of doth well content,

my poor life, It fits me well my absent wealth me The sweet disdaynes, the pleasant semes for to lament,

wrathes, and eke the holy strife,

thing,

after news,

wofull case,

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