Angles, Danes, (for among the Saxons that noble Douz (k) wills that surely Danes were) Frisians (i), and Franks, driven into those western parts of the now Wales and Cornwales. Our stories have this at large, and the Saxon heptarchy; which at last, by public edict of king Ecbert, was called Englelond. But John, bishop of Chartres (k), saith it had that name from the first coming of the Angles; others from the natre of Hengist (?), (a matter probable enough) whose name, wars, policies, and overnment, being first invested by Vortigern in Kent, are above all the other Ger. mans most notable in the British stories: and Harding

-he called it Engestes land, Which afterward was shorted, and called England. Hereto accords that of one of our country old poets (m):

Engisti linguâ canit insula Bruti (n).

If I should add the idle conceits of Godfrey of Viterbo, drawing the name from I know not what Angri, the insertion of for r by pope Gregory, or the conjectures of unlimitable phantasy, I should unwillingly, yet with them impudently, err.

(h) Jan. Douz. aunal. Holland. 1. & 6. (2) Procopius in fragm. d. lib, Gothic. ap. Camden. Name of England.

(k) Policratic. lib. 6. c. 17.

(1) Chronicon S. Albani, Hector. Boët. Scotorum hist. 7,

(m) J. Gower epigram. in confess. amantis. (n) Britain sings in Hengist's tongue.

POLY-OLBION.

THE SECOND SONG.

THE ARGUMENT.

The Muse from Marshwood way commands
Along the shore through Chesil's sands;
Where, over-toil'd, her heat to cool,
She bathes her in the pleasant Pool:
Thence, over land again doth scow'r,
To fetch in Froom and bring down Stour;
Falls with New-Forest, as she sings
The wanton wood-nymphs' revellings.
Whilst Itchin in her lofty lays

Chants Bevis of Southampton's praise,
She southward with her active flight
Is wafted to the isle of Wight,
To see the rout the sea-gods keep,
Their swaggering in the Solent deep.

Thence Hampshire-ward her way she bends;
And visiting her forest friends,

Near Sals'bury her rest doth take:
Which she her second pause doth make.

But as my subject serves, so high or low to strain,
And to the varying earth so suit my varying vein,
That, Nature, in my work thou may'st thy pow'r
[allow;

avow:

That as thou first found'st Art, and didst her rules So I, to thine own self that gladly near would be, May herein do the best, in imitating thee: As thou hast here a hill, a vale there, there a flood, A mead here, there a heath, and now and then a wood, These things so in my song I naturally may show; Now, as the mountain high; then, as the valley low; [bare;

Here, fruitful as the mead; there, as the heath be Then, as the gloomy wood, I may be rough, though

rare.

Thro' the Dorsetian fields, that lie in open view, My progress I again must seriously pursue, From Marshwood's fruitful vale my journey on to make:

(As Phoebus getting up out of the eastern lake, Refresh'd with ease and sleep, is to his labour prest; Even so the labouring Muse, here baited with this rest.) Whereas the little Lim along doth eas❜ly creep, And Car, that coming down unto the troubled deep, Brings on the neighb'ring Bert, whose batt'ning [rank, From all the British soils, for hemp most hugely Doth bear away the best; to Bert-port, which hath gain'd

mellow bank,

That praise from every place, and worthily obtain'd Our cordage from her store', and cables should be

made,

They to their secret bow'rs the sea-gods entertain. Where Portland from her top doth over-peer the [rocks,

main;

temp'rate air

Invites us easily on to hasten our repair.
Thou pow'rful god of flames (in verse divinely great)
Touch my invention so with true genuine heat,

That high and noble things I slightly may not tell,
For light and idle toys my lines may vainly swell;

That therewith they in war offensively might wound, If yet the use of shot invention had not found. Where from the neighb'ring hills her passage Wey doth path, [hath Whose haven, not our least that watch the mid-day, The glories that belong unto a complete port; Thongh Wey the least of all the Naiads that resort To the Dorsetian sands from off the higher shore. Then Froom (a nobler flood) the Muses doth implore [wail, Her mother Blackmoor's state they sadly would beWhose big and lordly oaks once bore as brave a sail, As they themselves that thought the largest shades to spread : [fed, But man's devouring hand, with all the earth not Hath hew'd her timber down: which wounded, when it fell, [to tell

By the great noise it made, the workmen seen'd The loss that to the land would shortly come thereWhere no man ever plants to our posterity: [by, That when sharp Winter shoots her sleet and harden'd hail,

Or sudden gusts from sea the barmless deer assail, The shrubs are not of pow'r to shield them from the wind. [alas! we find "Dear mother," quoth the Froom, too late, The softness of thy swerd, continued thro' thy soil, To be the only cause of unrecover'd spoil; When scarce the British ground a finer grass doth bear: [were) "And wish I could," quoth she, (" if wishes helpful §. Thou never by that name of White-hart hadst

been known,

But stiled Black-moor still, which rightly was

thine own.

For why? that change foretold the ruin of thy state: Lo, thus the world may see what 'tis to innovate!" By this, her own-nam'd town' the wand'ring

Froom had past,

And quitting in her course old Dorcester at last, Approaching near the Pool, at Wareham, on her way,

As eas❜ly she doth fall into the peaceful bay, Upon her nobler side, and to the southward ncar, Fair Purbeck she beholds, which no where hath her

peer:

So pleasantly en-isl'd on mighty Neptune's marge, A forest-nymph, and one of chaste Diana's charge, Employ'd in woods and lawns her deer to feed and kill: [will,

On whom the wat'ry god would oft have had his And often her hath woo'd, which never would be

won:

But Purbeck, as profest, a huntress and a nun, The wide and wealthy sea, nor all his pow'r respects; Her marble-minded breast, impregnable, rejects The ugly orks", that for their lord the Ocean woo. Whilst Froom was troubled thus, where nought she hath to do,

The Piddle, that this while bestirr'd her nimble feet, In falling to the Pool her sister Froom to meet, And having in her train two little slender rills Besides her proper spring, wherewith her banks she fills,

[lent,

To whom since first the world this later name her Who anciently was known to be enstiled Trent',

Frampton.

| Her small assistant brooks her second name have gain'd.

⚫ Monsters of the sea, supposed Neptune's guard. ? The ancient name of Piddle.

[tain'd>

Whilst Piddle and the Froom each other enterOft praising lovely Pool, their best-beloved bay, Thus Piddle her bespake, to pass the time away: "When Pool," quoth she," was young, a lusty sea-born lass,

Great Albion to this nymph an earnest suitor was; And bare himself so well, and so in favour came, That he in little time upon this lovely dame §. Begot three maiden isles, his darlings and delight: [hight; The eldest, Brunksey call'd; the second, Fursey The youngest and the last, and lesser than the other, [mother. Saint Hellen's name doth bear, the dilling of her And for the goodly Pool was one of Thetis' train, Who scorn'd a nymph of her's her virgin-band should stain,

Great Albion (that fore-thought the angry goddess would

[could) Both on the dam and brats take what revenge she I' th' bosom of the Pool his little children plac'd; First Brunksey, Fursey next, and little Hellen last; Then with his mighty arms doth clip the Pool about,

To keep the angry queen (fierce Amphitrite) out : Against whose lordly might she musters up her waves; [and raves." And strongly thence repuls'd, with madness scolds When now from Pool, the Muse (up to her pitch

to get)

Herself in such a place from sight doth almost set, As by the active power of her commanding wings, She (falcon-like) from far doth fetch those plenteons springs,

9

Where Stour receives her strength from six clear fountains fed;

Which gathering to one stream from every several head,

Her new-beginning bank her water scarcely wields; And fairly ent'reth first on the Dorsetian fields; Where Gillingham with gifts that for a god were

meet,

[sweet Enamell'd paths, rich wreaths, and every sov'reign The earth and air can yield, with many a pleasure mixt) [them betwixt, Receives her. Whilst there pass'd great kindness The forest her bespoke: "How happy, floods, are ye,

From our predestin'd plagues that privileged be! Which only with the fish which in your banks do

breed,

[feed! And daily there increase, man's gormandise can But had this wretched age such uses to employ Your waters, as the woods we lately did enjoy, Your channels they would leave as barren by their spoil,

As they of all our trees have lastly left our soil. Insatiable Time thus all things doth devour: What ever saw the Sun, that is not in Time's power? Ye fleeting streams last long, out-living many a day, [strongest prey.' But on more stedfast things Time makes the §. Now tow'rds the Solent sea as Stour her way doth ply,

On Shaftsbury (by chance) she cast her crystal eye

8 The story of Pool.

9 Stour riseth from six fountains.

From whose foundation first such strange reports arise, [phecies; 6. As brought into her mind the Eagle's proOf that so dreadful plague, which all great Britain swept, [crept, From that which highest flew, to that which lowest Before the Saxon thence the Briton should expel, And all that thereupon successively befel. [race; How then the bloody Dane subdu'd the Saxon And, next, the Norman took possession of the place: Those ages once expir'd, the fates to bring about, The British line restor'd, the Norman lineage out. §. Then, those prodigious signs to ponder she began, Which afterward again the Britons' wrack fore-ran; How here the owl at noon in public streets was seen,

[been. As though the peopled towns had wayless deserts And whilst the loathly toad out of his hole doth

crawl,

And makes his fulsome stool amid the prince's hall, The crystal fountain turn'd into a gory wound, And bloody issues brake (like ulcers) from the ground; [turn, The seas, against their course, with double tides reAnd oft were seen by night like boiling pitch to burn. [main; Thus thinking, lively Stour bestirs her tow'rds the Which Lidden leadeth out; then Dulas bears her train [bring: From Blackmore, that at once their watry tribute When, like some childish wench, she loosely wantoning, [shore. With tricks and giddy turns seems to inisle the Betwixt her fishful banks then forward she doth scow'r,

Until she lastly reach clear Alen in her race: Which calmly cometh down from her dear mother chase 10, [see

Of Cranbourn that is call'd; who greatly joys to A river born of her, for Stour's should reckon'd be, Of that renowned flood a favourite highly grac'd. Whilst Cranbourn, for her child so fortunately plac'd,

With echoes every way applauds her Alen's state, A sudden noise from Holt" seems to congratulate With Cranbourn, for her brook so happily bestow'd:

[show'd Where, to her neighb'ring chase, the courteous forest So just-conceived joy, that from each rising hurst 12, Where many a goodly oak had carefully been nurst, The Sylvans in their songs their mirthful meeting tell;

[dwell, And Satyrs, that in skades and gloomy dimbles Run whooting to the hills to clap their ruder hands. As Holt had done before, so Canford's goodly lands [veins, (Which lean upon the Pool) enrich'd with cop'ras Rejoice to see them join'd. When down from Sarum

Providing laws to keep those beasts here planted then, [men; Whose lawless will from hence before had driven That where the hearth was warm'd with winter's feasting fires,

The melancholy hare is form'd in brakes and briers : The aged ranpic trunk, where ploughmen cast their seed, [weed, And churches overwhelm'd with nettles, fern and By conq'ring William first cut off from every trade, That here the Norman still might enter to invade ; That on this vacant place, and unfrequented shore, New forces still might land, to aid those here before. But she, as by a king and conqueror made so great, By whom she was allow'd and limited her seat, Into her own self-praise most insolently brake, And her less fellow-nymphs New-forest thus bespake: [Bere"; "Thou Buckholt', bow to me; so let thy sister Chute 13, kneel thou at my name on this side of the [adore,

shire:

Where, for their goddess, me the Dryads" shall [shore With Waltham and the Bere, that on the sea-word See at the southern isles the tides at tilt to run; And Wolmer, placed hence upon the rising Sun, With Ashiholt thine ally (my wood-nymphs) and with you, [due.

Proud Pamber tow'rds the north, ascribe me worship Before my princely state let your poor greatness fall;

And vail your tops to me, the sovereign of you all."
Amongst the rivers, so, great discontent there feil.
Th' efficient cause thereof (as loud report doth tell)
Was, that the sprightly Test arising up in Chute,
To Itchin, her ally, great weakness should impute,
That she, to her own wrong, and every other's grief,
Would needs be telling things exceeding all belief:
For she had giv'n it out, South-hampton should
not lose
[choose;

§. Her famous Bevis so, were 't in her pow'r to §. And for great Arthur's seat, her Winchester prefers,

Whose old round-table yet she vaunteth to be hers; And swore, th' inglorious time should not bereave her right;

But what it would obscure, she would reduce to light. For,

from that wondrous pond ", whence she derives her head,

And places by the way, by which she's honoured, (Old Winchester, that stands near in her middle way,

And Hampton, at her fall into the Solent sea)
She thinks in all the isle not any such as she,
And for a demigod she would related be.

"Sweet sister mine," quoth Test, "advise you what you do; [two: Think this; for each of us, the forests here are Who, if you speak a thing whereof they hold can take,

Be't little, or be't much, they double will it make." Whom Hamble helpeth out; a handsome proper

flood,

In courtesy well skill'd, and one that knew her good:

13 The forest of Hampshire, with their situations. "Nymphs that live and die with oaks.

15 A pool near unto Alresford, yielding an unusual abundance of water.

nowned man!

And she (to please herself that only scem'd to care) To sing th' achievements great of Bevis thus began: "Redoubted knight," quoth she, "O most re[reprove Who, when thou wert but young, thy mother durst (Most wickedly seduced by th' unlawfui love Of Mordure, at that time the Almain emperor's son) That she thy sire to death disloyally had done."Each circumstance whereof she largely did relate; Then in her song pursu'd his mother's deadly hate; And how (by Saber's hand) when she suppos'd him dead,

Where long upon the downs a shepherd's life he led; Till, by the great recourse, he came at length to know

The country thereabout could hardly hold the show His mother's marriage feast to fair Southampton drew, [slew:

Being wedded to that lord who late her husband Into his noble breast which pierc'd so wond'rous

deep,

That (in the poor attire he us'd to tend the sheep, And in his hand his hook) unto the town he went; As having in his heart a resolute intent

Or manfully to die, or to revenge his wrong: Where pressing at the gate the multitude among, The porter to that place, his entrance that forbade, (Supposing him some swain, some boist'rous

country-lad)

Upon the head he lent so violent a stroke,

That the poor empty skull like some thin potsherd broke, [wall.

The brains and mingled blood were spirtled on the Then basting on, he came into the upper hall, Where murd'rous Mordure sat embraced by his bride:

Who (guilty in himself) had he not Bevis spy'd, His bones had with a blow been shatter'd but by chance

He shifting from the place, whilst Bevis did advance His hand, with greater strength his deadly foe to hit, And missing him, his chair he all to shivers split: Which struck his mother's breast with strange and sundry fears,

That Bevis being then but of so tender years, Durst yet attempt a thing so full of death and doubt.

And, once before deceiv'd, she newly cast about To rid him out of sight, and, with a mighty wage, Won such, themselves by oath as deeply durst

engage,

To execute her will: who shipping him away (And making forth their course into the midland sea)

As they had got before, so now again for gold To an Armenian there that young Alcides sold:

Of all his gotten prize, who (as the worthiest thing, And fittest wherewithal to gratify his king) Presented that brave youth; the splendour of whose eve

A wond'rous mixture show'd of grace and majesty: Whose more than man-like shape, and matchless stature, took [look The king; that often us'd with great delight to Upon that English earl. But though the love he bore [more

To Bevis might be much, his daughter ten times Admir'd the godlike man: who, from the hour that first

His beauty she beheld, felt her soft bosom pierc'd With Cupid's deadliest shaft; that Josian, to her guest,

slaughter make,

[they drew, That whilst in their black mouths their blasphemies They headlong went to Hell. As also how he slew That cruel boar, whose tusks turn'd up whole fields of grain

(And, rooting, raised hills upon the level plain;
Digg'd caverns in the earth, so dark and wond'rous
deep,
[leapt)

As that, into whose mouth the desperate Roman
And cutting off his head, a trophy thence to bear?
The foresters, that came to intercept it there,
How he their scalps and trunks in chips and pieces

cleft,

[left.

At whose prodigious fall, the conquer'd foe forsook The field; where, in one day so many peers they lost,

So brave commanders, and so absolute an host, As to the humbled earth took proud Damascus down,

Then tributary made to the Armenian crown. And how at his return the king (for service done, The honour to his reign, and to Armenia won) In marriage to this earl the princess Jo-ian gave.

As into what distress him Fortune after drave, To great Damascus sent ambassador again; When, in revenge of theirs, before by Bevis slain, (And now, at his return, for that he so despis'd Those idols unto whom they daily sacrific'd,