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author's mistress, whose name was Alysoun;" this is inserted in his first class, comprehending the reigns of Henry III. Edward I. II. and III. and Richard II. It opens thus:

Bytuene Mersh ant Averil

When spray biginneth to springe
The lutel foul hath hire wyl
On hyre lud* to synge ;
Ich libbet in louelonyinge
For semlokest of all thynge,
He may me blisse bringe,

Icham in hire brandoun.§
An hendy hap ichabbe yhent
Ichot¶ from hevene it is me sent,
From all wymmen my loue is lent
Ant lyht on Alysoun.

He further speaks of―

Hire browe broune, hire eyhe blake.

With lossum** chere [s]he on me loh ;tt
With middel smal ant well ymak.

And in another place,

Hire swyre++ is whittore then the swon.

The same MS. has preserved another song in which the author describes "his beautiful, but unrelenting mistress :"

That sweting is ant ever wes.

"I would place it," says Warton, "before or about the year 1200;" this is one of the verses:

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Blow northerne wynd

Sent thou me my suetyng

Blow northerne wynd, blou, blou, blou.

Another of our old writers has praised his mistress as the fairest maid" betweene Lyncolne ant Lyndesey, Northampton ant Lounde," [i. e. London] in five stanzas, beginning in this very pleasing way:

When the nyhtegale singes the wodes waxen green,
Lef ant gras ant blosme springes in Averyl y wene,
Ant love is to myn herte gon with one spere so kene
Nyht ant day my blod hyt drinkes, myn herte deth me tene.

* She.

+ Pink.

+ Sunflower.

§ Hurt or distress myself.

These "auncient ditties," are supposed to have been written anterior to Chaucer,

"Whose light those clouds and mists dissolv'd

Which our dark nation long involv'd;"

the father of our poetry had in his day written many a song and goodly ballad; like his "yonge squier,"

"He coude songes make and well indite,"

if he could not "singe and plaien on a rote," like the wanton "frere." These valuable pieces of ancient minstrelsy, time, the greatest of thieves, has robbed us of. As Ritson says, "Chaucer's ballads have been sung, but they are certainly no songs."

To illustrate the history of song during the reigns of the kings immediately following Chaucer's master, Edward III., our many public libraries afford little or nothing. Gower and Occleve adorned our literature, or rather improved the ruggedness of our language; and Lydgate, a monk, wrote as many works as would satisfy the burning thirst for writing, of half a dozen of the voluminous authors of the nineteenth century. Though Henry V. ordered that no songs should be recited to celebrate the victory of Agincourt, some poet laureate of those days has wedded it to immortal rhyme, even the music of it has been preserved.* Charles Duke

* See Percy's Reliques, vol. ii. p. 26. Ed. 1811.

of Orleans, while prisoner in England during this reign, wrote a volume of Love poems, still preserved among the Harleian Papers, [682]. The Editor looked for a better specimen than the one given by Ritson, beginning,

Lend me youre praty mouth madame,

See how y kneele here at yowre feet, &c. &c.

but it was a vain search.

To the reign of his son, Henry VI. is given the old ballads of Chevy Chace and the battle of Otterbourne, ballads admired by old and young.

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Of this time also, is a Song on an Inconstant Mistress," a theme prevalent in all ages.

Who so lyst to love, God send hym right good spede.
Some tyme y loved, as ye may see,

A goodlyer ther myght none be,
Here womanhode in all degree,
Full well she quytt my mede.
[Who so lyst, &c.]

Unto the tyme, upon a day,

To sone ther fill a gret affray,

She badde me walke forth on my way,

On me she gatt none hede.

Woso lyst, &c.

I asked the cause why and wherfor,
She displesede was with me so sore;
She wold nat tell, but kept in store,
Perdy it was no nede.

Woso lyst, &c.

For if y hadde hur displeased

In worde or dede, or hir greved,

Than if she hadde before meved,*
She hadde cause in dede.

Woso lyst, &c.

* Departed.

But well y wote y hadde nat done,
Hur to displese, but in grete mone
She hath me left and ys agone,
For sowre my hert doth blede.
Wo so lyst, &c.

Some tyme she wold to me complayne,
Yff she had felt dysease or payne,
Now fele y nought but grete disdayne,
Allas, what is your rede?

Wo so lyst, &c.

Shall I leve of, and let hur go?
Nay ner the rather will y do so,

Yet though unkyndnesse do me wo,
Hur will y love and drede.

Wo so lyst, &c.

Some hope that when she knowith the case,
Y truste to God that withyne short spase
She will me take agayne to grace,
Than have y well abydde.

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In the reign of Edward IV. we have a

'balet' by Anthony Woodvyle, Earl Rivers, written during his imprisonment in Pontefract castle, in the year 1483,

* From MSS. More, F. f. 1. 6. Ritson's Ancient Songs, p. 72. Among the Harleian MSS. [641] written in Henry VIth's time, there is an old song beginning:

Bryng us home good ale, sir, bryng us home good ale,
And, for our der ladylove bryng us home good ale.

Its value is hurt by its indelicacy, and the introduction of our Saviour's curse and mine.' Dr. Johnson has said of it-that the merriment is very gross, and the sentiments very worthless.

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