Thefe tydings be more gladder to me than to be made a quene,
Yf I were fure they fholde endure: but it is often
Whan men wyll breke promyfe, they fpeke the wordes on the splene:
Ye fhape fome wyle, me to begyle, and ftele from me, I wene:
Than were the case worse than it was, and I more
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone.
Ye shall nat nede further to drede; I will not dyf
You (God defende !) fyth you descend of so grete lynage.
Nowe understande,to Weftmarlande, which is myne herytage,
I wyll you bringe; and with a rynge, by way of
I wyll you take, and lady make, as fhortely as I
Thus have ye won an erlys fon, and no banyshed
Here may ye fe, that women be, in love, meke, kynde, and ftable:
Late never man reprove them than,
But, rather, pray God, that we may to them be comfortable,
Which fometyme proved fuch as he loved, yf they be charytable.
Forfoth, men wolde that women fholde be meke to them eche one;
Moche more ought they to God obey, and serve but hym alone.
UPON THE MODEL OF THE NUT-BROWN MAID.
THOU, to whofe eyes I bend, at whofe command
(Though low my voice, though artless be my hand)
I take the sprightly reed, and fing, and play;
Careless of what the cenfuring world may fay:
Bright Cloe, object of my conftant vow,
Wilt thou a while unbend thy serious brow;
Wilt thou with pleasure hear thy lover's strains,
And with one heavenly fmile o'erpay his pains?
No longer shall the Nut-brown Maid be old;
Though fince her youth three hundred years have
roll'd:
At thy defire she shall again be rais'd;
And her reviving charms in lafting verse be prais'd.
No longer man of woman fhall complain,
That he may love, and not be lov'd again:
That we in vain the fickle fex pursue,
Who change the conftant lover for the new.
Whatever has been writ, whatever faid,
́ Of female paffion feign'd, or faith decay'd:
Henceforth fhall in my verse refuted stand,
Be faid to winds, or writ upon the fand.
And, while my notes to future times proclaim
Unconquer'd love, and ever-during flame ;
O fairest of the fex be thou my Muse :
Deign on thy work thy influence to diffuse.
Let me partake the bleffings I rehearse,
grant me, Love, the just reward of verfe!
As beauty's potent queen, with every grace
That once was Emma's, has adorn'd thy face;
And as her fon has to my bofom dealt
That conftant flame, which faithful Henry felt;
O let the story with thy life agree:
Let men once more the bright example see;
What Emma was to him, be thou to me.
Nor fend me by thy frown from her I love,
Diftant and fad, a banifh'd man to rove.
But oh! with pity long-intreated crown
My pains and hopes; and when thou say'st that one
Of all mankind thou lov'st, oh! think on me alone.
Where beauteous Ifis and her husband Tame
With mingled waves for ever flow the fame,
In times of yore an antient baron liv'd;
Great gifts bestow'd, and great respect receiv'd.
When dreadful Edward with fuccefsful care
Led his free Britons to the Gallic war:
This lord had headed his appointed bands,
In firm allegiance to his king's commands;
And (all due honours faithfully discharg'd)
Had brought back his paternal coat enlarg'd
With a new mark, the witness of his toil,
And no inglorious part of foreign spoil.
From the loud camp retir'd and noisy court,
In honourable ease and rural sport,
The remnant of his days he fafely paft;
Nor found they lagg'd too flow, nor flew too fast.
He made his wish with his eftate comply,
Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die.
One child he had, a daughter chafte and fair,
His age's comfort, and his fortune's heir.
They called her Emma; for the beauteous dame,
Who gave the Virgin birth, had borne the name;
The name th' indulgent father doubly lov'd;
For in the child the mother's charms improv'd.
Yet as, when little round his knees the play'd,
He call'd her oft' in sport his Nut-brown Maid,
The friends and tenants took the fondling word
(As ftill they please, who imitate their lord);
Ufage confirm'd what Fancy had begun;
The mutual terms around the lands were known;
And Emma and the Nut-brown Maid were one.
As with her ftature, ftill her charms increas'd;
Through all the isle her beauty was confefs'd.
Oh! what perfection must that Virgin share,
Who fairest is efteem'd, where all are fair!
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