in his cathedral, still remaining, but miserably defaced. To which the shepherd alludes in the lines that follow: This was the father of thinges pastorall, There was I lately, aboute the midst of May: To that gay churche in comparison.— When I sawe his figure lye in the chapel side, &c.° In another place he thus represents the general lamentation for the death of this worthy prelate: and he rises above himself in describing the sympathy of the towers, arches, vaults, and images, of Ely monastery. The pratie palace by him made in the fen", The maidès, widowes, the wives, and the men, Shrunke under shadowes, abating all their chere. The stones, rockes, and towrès semblably, The marble pillours, and images eche one, Swete all for sorrowe, when this cocke was gone, &c.' It should be remembered, that these pastorals were probably written while our poet was a monk of Ely: and although Alcock was then dead, yet the memory of his munificence and piety was recent in the monastery'. Speaking of the dignity and antiquity of shepherds, and particularly of Christ at his birth being first seen by shepherds, he seems to describe some large and splendid picture of the Nativity painted on the walls of Ely cathedral. I sawe them myselfe well paynted on the wall, I saw great wethers, in picture, and small lambes, Virgil's poems are thus characterised, in some of the best turned lines we find in these pastorals: He sunge of fieldes, and tilling of the grounde, I trowe his tunes went to the firmament." He gives us the following idea of the sports, spectacles, and pleasures, of his age. * He also compliments Alcock's predecessour Moreton, afterwards archbishop of Canterbury: not without an allusion to his troubles, and restoration to favour, under Richard the Third and Henry the Seventh. EGL. iii. And shepheard MORETON, when he durst In payne and pleasour they kept fidelitie, The Deane of Powles, I suppose dean EGL. V. "ECL. iv. Some men deliteth beholding men to fight, C Swanne, nor heron, What fishe is of savour swete and deli- Rosted or sodden in swete herbes or wine; For women use to love them most of Or fried in oyle, most saporous and all, fine. We have before seen, that our author and Skelton were rivals. He alludes to Skelton, who had been laureated at Oxford, in the following lines. Then is he decked as poete laureate, When stinking Thais made him her graduate. If they have smelled the artes triviall, They count them poets hye and heroicall.e The TowRE OF VERTUE AND HONOUR, introduced as a Mangling the fleshe, and in the platter flee: To put there thy handes is perill without fayle, Without a gauntlet or els a glove of mayle. The two last lines remind us of a saying of Quin, who declared it was not safe to sit down to a turtle-feast in one of the city-halls, without a basket-hilted knife and fork. Not that I suppose Quin borrowed his bons mots from black letter books. The following lines point out some of the festive tales of our ancestors. EGL. iv. Yet would I gladly heare some mery FIT Of Mayde Marian, or els of Robin Or Bentley's Ale which chafeth well the Of Perte of Norwich, or sauce of Wilberton, Or buckish Toby well-stuffed as a ton. He mentions Bentley's Ale, which maketh me to winke, EGL. ii. Some of our antient domestic pastimes and amusements are recorded, EGL. iv. Methinkes no mirth is scant, Where no rejoysing of minstrelsie doth want: The bagpipe or fiddle to us is delectable, &c. And the mercantile commodities of different countries and cities, EGL. iv. England hath cloth, Bordeus hath store of wine, Cornwalle hath tinne, and Lymster woolès fine. London hath scarlet, and Bristowe pleasaunt red, &c. Of songs at feasts, EGL. iv. When your fat dishes smoke hot upon your table, Then laude ye songes and balades magnifie, If they be merry, or written craftely, Ye clappe your handes and to the makinge harke, And one say to another, lo here a proper warke. He says that minstrels and singers are highly favoured at court, especially those of the French gise. EGL. ii. Also jugglers and pipers, EGL. iv. e EGL. iv. song of one of the shepherds into these pastorals, exhibits no very masterly strokes of a sublime and inventive fancy. It has much of the trite imagery usually applied in the fabrication of these ideal edifices. It, however, shews our author in a new walk of poetry. This magnificent tower, or castle, is built on inaccessible cliffs of flint: the walls are of gold, bright as the sun, and decorated with olde historyes and pictures many folde: the turrets are beautifully shaped. Among its heroic inhabitants are king Henry the Eighth, Howard duke of Norfolk, and the earl of Shrewsbury. LABOUR is the porter at the gate, and VIRTUE governs the house. LABOUR is thus pictured, with some degree of spirit. Fearfull is LABOUR, without favour at all, Under his browes he dreadfully doth lowre |