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Upon the Author's first seven years service.
[Perhaps addressed to his Wife.]
SEVEN times hath Janus ta'en new year by hand, Seven times hath blustering March blown forth his power,
To drive out April's buds, by sea and land,
For minion May to deck most trim with flower : Seven times hath temperate Ver like pageant plaid; And pleasant Æstas eke her flowers told; Seven times Autumnus' heat hath been delay'd,
With Hyems' boisterous blasts and bitter cold: Seven times the thirteen moons have changed hue; Seven times the sun his course hath gone about; Seven times each bird his nest hath built anew;— Since first time you to serve I choosed out:
yours am I, though thus the time hath past, And trust to be, as long as life shall last.
Good huswifely physick.
GOOD huswife provides, ere a sickness do come,
Cold herbs in her garden, for agues that burn,
Get water of fumitory, liver to cool,
And others the like, or else lie like a fool.
Good diet, with wisdom, best comforteth man.
THERE were three ravens sat on a tree,
There were three ravens sat on a tree,
They were as black as they might be,
With a down, derry, derry, derry, down, down.
The one of them said to his make, I
Where shall we our breakfast take ?
Down in yonder greene field:
There lies a knight slain under his shield.
His hounds they lie down at his feet,
So well they their master keep.
His hawks they fly so eagerly,
There's no fowl dare him come nigh.
Down there comes a fallow doe,
As great with young as she might go:
She lift up his bloody head,
And kist his wounds that were so red:
She got him upon her back
And carried him to earthen lake:
She buried him before the prime :
She was dead herself ere even-song time!
God send every gentleman,
Such hawks, such hounds, and such a leman!
This elegant and pathetic little piece is taken from Mr. Ritson's volume of Ancient Songs (1792), where it is printed, together with the original music, from Ravenscroft's "Melismata." 1611. 4to. The burthen of the first stanza is to be supplied in all the others.
The perfect Trial of a faithful Friend.
[From the Paradise of Dainty Devices.]
Not wish at will, but want of joy;
Not heart's good health, but heart's annoy;
Not freedom's use, but prison's thrall;
Not costly seat, but lowest fall;
Not weal I mean, but wretched woe;
Doth truly try the friend from foe:
'Mr. Steevens supposed the real name to be Pooly, the letters, of which it is composed, being reversed, but no anecdotes of this author are known.