With Brenditch, that again is shortest of the three, Can you suppose yourselves at all to be respected, When you may see my truth's bely'd, and so neglected;

[estate, Therefore dear heath, live still in prosperous And let thy well-fleec'd flocks, from morn to evening late, [praise, (By careful shepherds kept) rejoice thee with their And let the merry lark, with her delicious lays, Give comfort to thy plains, and let me only lie, (Though of the world contemn'd) yet gracious in thine eye."

[ground,

Wherefore this hill with love, being foully overgone; And one day as he found the lovely nymph alone Thus woos her; "Sweeting mine, if thou mine own wilt be,

I've many a pretty gaud, I keep in store for thee, A nest of broad-fac'd owls, and goodly urchins too, [woo : Nay, nymph take heed of me, when I begin to And better yet than this, a bulchin two years old, A curl'd-pate calf it is, and oft could have been sold: [tway, And yet beside all this, I've goodly bear-whelps Full dainty for my joy, when she's dispos'd to play, And twenty sows of lead, to make our wedding ring; [thing: Besides, at Sturbridge fair, I'll buy thee many a I'll smouch thee every morn, before the Sun can rise, [eyes."

And look my manly face, in thy sweet glaring Thus said, he smugg'd his beard, and stroked up his hair,

[fair: As one that for her love he thought had offered Which to the Muses, Grant did presently report, Wherewith they many a year shall make them wondrous sport.

When Ringdale in herself, a most delicious dale, Who having heard too long the barbarous mountain's tale, Thus thinketh in herself, "Shall I be silenc'd, when [men, Rude hills and ditches, digg'd by discontented Are aided by the Muse, their minds at large to speak,

Besides my sister vales supposing me but weak, Judge meanly of my state," when she no longer staid,

But in her own behalf, thus to the other said.
"What though betwixt two shires, I be by
fortune thrown,
[own;

That neither of them both can challenge me her
Yet am I not the less, nor less my fame shall be ;
Your figures are but base, when they are set by me:
For nature in your shapes, notoriously did err,
But skilful was in me, cast pure orbicular.
Nor can I be compar'd so like to any thing,
By him that would express my shape, as to a ring:
For nature bent to sport, and various in her trade,
Of all the British vales, of me a circle made:
For in my very midst, there is a swelling ground,
About which Ceres' nymphs dance many a wanton
round.

The frisking fairy there, as on the light air borne,
Oft run at barley-break upon the ears of corn;
And catching drops of dew in their lascivious
chases,

Do cast the liquid pearl in one another's faces.
What they in largeness have, that bear themselves
In my most perfect form, and delicacy, I, [so high,
For greatness of my grain, and fineness of my
grass;
[surpass."
This isle scarce hath a vale, that Ringdale doth
When more she would have said, but suddenly

there sprung,

A confident report, that through the country rung,
That Cam her daintiest flood, long since entitled
Grant,
[right plant,
Whose fountain Ashwell crown'd, with many an up-

2 This vale standeth part in Hertfordshire, part in Cambridgeshire.

When nothing hath of yours, or your base broods been left,

verse:

And with the Muses oft, did by the way con[hearse, Wherefore it her benoves, that something she reThe sisters that concern'd, who whisper'd in her ear, [should hear, Such things as only she, and they themselves A wondrous learned flood: and she that had been long

(Though silent, in herself, yet) vexed at the wrong Done to Apollo's priests, with heavenly fire infus'd, Oft by the worthless world, unworthily abus'd: With whom, in their behalf, hap ill, or happen well,

[Hell, She meant to have a bout, even in despite of When humbly lowting low, her due obedience done,

Thus like a satyr she, deliberately begun.

66

My invective," thus quoth she, I only aim

Against the Muses' sons, and their most sacred That hate a poet's name, your vileness to advance,

For ever be you damn'd in your dull ignorance. Slave, he whom thou dost think, so mean and poor to be,

Is more than half divine, when he is set by thee.
Nay more, I will avow, and justify him then,
He is a god, compar'd with ordinary men.

His brave and noble heart, here in a Heaven doth
dwell,
[Hell;
Above those worldly cares, that sinks such sots to
A caitiff if there be yet viler than thyself.
If he through baseness light upon this worldly pelf,
The chimney-sweep, or he that in the dead of
night,

[right; Doth empty loathsome vaults, nay purchase all your When not the greatest king, should he his treasure rain,

The Muses' sacred gifts, can possibly obtain ;
No, were the monarch of the universal Earth,
Except that gift from Heaven, be breath'd into his
birth.

How transitory be those heaps of rotting mud,
Which only to obtain, ye make your chiefest
good;
[leave,
Perhaps to your fond sons, your ill-got goods you
You scarcely buried are, but they your hopes de-
ceive.
[whose ground,
Have I not known a wretch, the purchase of
Was valued to be sold, at threescore thousand

I' th' Heliconian fount, who rightly christ'ned are; Not such as basely sooth the humour of the time, And slubberingly patch up some slight and shallow rhyme,

Upon Parnassus' top, that strive to be install'd, Yet never to that place were by the Muses call'd. Nor yet our mimic apes, out of their bragging pride, [deny'd;

That fain would seem to be, what nature them Whose verses hobbling run, as with disjointed bones, And make a viler noise, than carts upon the

stones;

And these forsooth must be, the Muses' only heirs, When they but bastards are, and foundlings none of theirs,

wit;

Enforcing things in verse for poetry unfit, Mere filthy stuff, that breaks out of the sores of [heap'd, What poet recks the praise upon such antics Or envies that their lines, in cabinets are kept? Though some fantastic fool promove their ragged rhymes, [times, And do transcribe them o'er, a hundred several And some fond women wins, to think them wondrous rare,

are,

When they lewd beggary trash, nay very gibb'rish [please) Give me those lines (whose touch the skilful ear to That gliding flow in state, like swelling Euphrates, In which things natural be, and not in falsely wrong; [and strong; The sounds are fine and smooth, the sense is full Not bombasted with words, vain ticklish ears to feed,

But such as may content the perfect man to read, What is of painters said, is of true poets rife, That he which doth express things nearest to the life, [thereto,

Doth touch the very point, nor needs he add For that the utmost is, that art doth strive to do. "Had Orpheus, whose sweet harp (so musically

strung)

Enticed trees, and rocks, to follow him along;
Th' morality of which, is that his knowledge drew,
The stony, blockish rout, that nought but rudeness
kuew,

T' embrace a civil life, by his enticing lays; Had he compos'd his lines, like many of these days,

Which to be understood, do take it in disdain, Nay Edipus may fail, to know what they would

mean.

pound;

In woman's perfect shape, still be thy emblem right, [light. Whose one hand holds a cup, the other bears a Phocis bedew'd with drops, that from Parnassus Let Cirrha seek to her, nor be you least of all, [fall, Ye fair Baotian Thebes, and Thespia still to pay My Cambridge all her rites; Cirrhea send this way. O let the thrice-three maids their dews upon thee rain, [crane. From Aganippa's fount, and hoof-plough'd HippoMount Pindus, thou that art the Muses' sacred place

In Thessaly; and thou, O Pimpla, that in Thrace They chose for their own hill, then thou Parnassus high,

Upon whose by clift top, the sacred company About Apollo sit; and thou, O flood, with these Pure Helicon, belov'd of the Pierides. [to her, With Tempe, let thy walks, and shades, be brought And all your glorious gifts upon my town confer."

This said, the lovely Grant glides eas'ly on along, To meet the mighty Ouse, which with her wat❜ry throng,

The Cantabrigian fields had enter'd, taking in Th' enisled Ely's earth, which strongly she doth win [the fruitful isle, From Grant's soft-neighbouring grounds, when as Much wondering at herself, thought surely all this while,

That by her silence she had suffer'd too much wrong, [sung: Wherefore in her self-praise, lo thus the Island "Of all the Marshland isles, I Ely am the

queen,

[green. For winter each where sad, in me looks fresh and The horse, or other beast, o'erweigh'd with his own mass,

Lies wallowing in my fens, hid over head in grass; And in the place where grows rank fodder for my neat, [peat: The turf which bears the hay, is wond'rous needful My full and batt'ning earth needs not the plough[veins

man's pains,

Nor Huntingdon, to me though she extend her grounds,

Twit me that I at all usurp upon her bounds. Those meres may well be proud, that I will take them in, [been.

Which otherwise, perhaps, forgotten might have Besides my tow'red fane, and my rich city'd seat, With villages, and dorps, to make me most complete."

Thus broke she off her speech, when as the Muse awhile,

Desirous to repose, and rest her with the isle, Here consummates her song, and doth fresh courage take,

With war, in the next book, the Muses to awake.

'Though Ely be in part of Cambridgeshire, yet are these meres for the most part in Huntingdonshire.

**The town and church of Ely.

POLY-OLBION.

THE TWENTY-SECOND SONG.

THE ARGUMENT.

The Muse, Ouse from her fountain brings
Along by Buckingham, and sings :
The earth that turned wood to stone,
And th' holy wells of Harlweston:
Then shows wherefore the fates do grant,
That she the civil wars should chant:
By Huntingdon she Waybridge meets,
And thence the German ocean greets.

INVENTION, as before, thy high pitch'd pinions

rouse,

Exactly to set down how the far-wand'ring Ouse, Thro' the Bedfordian fields deliciously doth strain, As holding on her course, by Huntingdon again, How bravely she herself betwixt her banks doth bear,

Ere Ely she enisle, a goddess honour'd there; From Brackley breaking forth, through soils most heavenly sweet, [street, By Buckingham makes on, and crossing WatlingShe with her lesser Ouse, at Newport next doth twin, [ambling in. Which from proud Chiltern near, comes eas'ly The brook which on her bank doth boast that earth alone,

(Which noted) of this isle, converteth wood to stone, That little Asply's earth we anciently enstyle, 'Mongst sundry other things, a wonder of the isle : Of which the lesser Ouse oft boasteth in her way, As she herself with flowers doth gorgeously array. Ouse having Ouleney past, as she were waxed mad [gad;

From her first stayder course immediately doth And in meand'red gyres doth whirl herself about, That, this way, here and there, back, forward, in,

and out,

And like a wanton girl, oft doubling in her gate, In labyrinth-like turns, and twinings intricate,

The shire's hospitious town, she in her course divide, Where she her spacious breast in glorious breadth displays, [ways, And varying her clear form a thousand sundry Streaks through the verdant meads; but far she [on, When Ivel, a clear nymph, from Shefford sallying Comes deftly dancing in thro' many a dainty slade, Crown'd with a goodly bridge, arriv'd at Bickleswade,

hath not gone,

Encouraged the more her mistress to pursue,

In whose clear face the Sun delights himself to view: To mix herself with Ouse, as on she thus doth make,

And lovingly at last hath hapt to overtake; She in her crystal arms her sovereign Ouse doth cling,

Which flood in her ally, as highly glorying, Shoots forward to St. Neot's, into those nether grounds, [fordian bounds. Towards Huntingdon, and leaves the lov'd BedScarce is she ent'red yet upon this second shire, Of which she sovereign is, but that two fountains clear, [sweet, At Harlweston near at hand, th' one salt, the other At her first entrance, thus her greatness gently greet: "Once were we two fair nymphs, who fortunately prov'd,

The pleasures of the woods, and faithfully belov'd Of two such sylvan gods, by hap that found us here; [were, For then their sylvan kind most highly honour'd When this whole country's face was foresty, and we Liv'd loosely in the weilds, which now thus peopled be. [sent, Oft interchang'd we sighs, oft amorous looks we Oft whispering our dear loves, our thoughts oft did we vent [play, Amongst the secret shades, oft in the groves did And in our sports, our joys and sorrows did bewray. Oft cunningly we met, yet coyly then embrac'd, Still languish'd in desire, yet liv'd we ever chaste. And quoth the saltish spring, 'as one day mine and I, Set to recount our loves, from his more tender eye The brinish tears dropp'd down on mine impierced breast,

And instantly therein so deeply were imprest, That brackish I became: he finding me depriv'd of former freshness quite, the cause from him deriv'd,

On me bestow'd this gift, my sweetness to requite, That I should ever cure the dimness of the sight.' • And,' quoth the fresher spring,' the wood-god me that woo'd,

[stood, As one day by my brim, surpris'd with love, he On me bestow'd this gift, that ever after I Should cure the painful itch,and loathsome leprosy." Held on with this discourse, she on not far hath But that she is arriv'd at goodly Huntingdon; [run, Where she no sooner views her darling and delight, Proud Portholme, but became so ravish'd with the sight,

That she her limber arms lasciviously deth throw About the islet's waist, who being embraced so, Her flow'ry bosom shows to the enamour'd brook; On which when as the Ouse amazedly doth look

1 A little island made by this river, lying near Huntingdon.

a flow'r, [did pour (That grace this godly mead) as though the spring Her full abundance down, whose various dyes so thick,

Are intermix'd as they by one another stick,
That to the gazing eye that standeth far, they show
Like those made by the Sun in the celestial bow.
But now t' advance this flood, the fates had brought
to pass,

As she of all the rest the only river was:
That but a little while before that fatal war,
"Twixt that divided blood of York and Lancaster,
Near Harleswood, above in her Bedfordian trace,
By keeping back her stream, for near three fur-
longs' space,

Laying her bosom bare unto the public view ; Apparently was prov'd by that which did ensue, In her prophetic self, those troubles to foresee : Wherefore (even as her due) the destinies agree, She should the glory have our civil fights to sing, When swelling in her banks, from her abundant spring,

Her sober silence she now resolutely breaks,

In language fitting war, and thus to purpose speaks: "With that most fatal field, I will not here begin, Where Norman William, first the Conqueror, did win [slain,

The day at Hastings, where the valiant Harold Resign'd his crown, whose soil the colour doth retain, Of th' English blood there shed, as th' earth still kept the scar:

Which since not ours begot, but an invasive war, Amongst our home-fought fields, hath no description here. [year,

"In Normandy nor that, that same day forty That bastard William brought a conquest on this isle, [while 'Twixt Robert his eld'st son, and Henry, who, the His brother's warlike tents in Palestine were pight, In England here usurp'd his eld'st-born brother's right; [land, Which since it foreign was, not struck within this Amongst our civil fights here number'd shall not stand.

"But Lincoln battle now we as our first will lay, Where Maud the empress stood to try the doubtful day,

With Stephen, when he here had well-near three years reign'd, [tain'd, Where both of them their right courageously mainAnd marshalling their troops, the king his person put

[foot:

Into his well-arm'd main, of strong and valiant The wings that were his horse, in th' one of them he plac'd [grac'd Young Alan, that brave duke of Britain, whom he With th' earls of Norfolk and Northampton, and with those,

He Mellent in that wing, and Warren did dispose. The other no whit less, that this great day might sted;

The earl of Aubemerle, and valiant Ipres led.
The empress' powers again, but in two squadrons

were;

The vaward Chester had, and Gloucester the rear; Then were there valiant Welsh, and desperate med of ours, [their powers.

That when supplies should want, might reinforce

2 In Sussex, near the sea,

At once, and on the earth reflects the very same. With their resplendent swords, that glister'd 'gainst the Sun;

The honour of the day, at length, the empress won. King Stephen prisoner was, and with him many a lord,

The common soldiers put together to the sword. "The next, the battle near St. Edmundsbury fought, [brought By our Fitz-empress' force, and Flemings hither By th' earl of Le'ster, bent to move intestine strife, For young king Henry's cause', crown'd in his father's life; [bred, Which to his kingly sire much care and sorrow In whose defiance then that earl his ensigns spread, Back'd by Hugh Bigot's power, the earl of Norfolk then,

By bringing to his aid the valiant Norfolk men. 'Gainst Bohun, England's great high constable, that sway'd

The royal forces, join'd with Lucy for his aid, Chief justice, and with them the German powers, t' expel

The earls of Cornwal came, Glo'ster, and Arundell, From Bury, that with them St. Edmund's banner' bring,

Their battles in array: both wisely ordering The armies chanc'd to meet upon the marshy ground, [found) Betwixt St. Edmund's town and Fornham, (fitly The bellowing drums beat up a thunder for the charge,

The trumpets rent the air, the ensigns let at large, Like waving flames far off, to either, host appear: The bristling pikes do shake, to threat their coming near;

All clouded in a mist they hardly could them view, So shadow'd with the shafts from either side that flew. [forces, The wings came wheeling in, at joining of whose The either part were seen to tumble from their horses,

Which empty put to rout, are paunch'd with gleaves and piles, [files. Lest else by running loose, they might disrank their The bill-men come to blows, that with the cruel thwacks, [tatter'd jacks: The ground lay strew'd with male, and shreds of The plains like to a shop, look'd each where to behold, [sold; Where limbs of mangled men on heaps lay to be Stern discontented war did never yet appear With a more threat'ning brow, than it that time did there.

Henry the Second

"O Leicester (alas !) in ill time wast thou won, To aid this graceless youth, the most ungrateful son Against his natural sire, who crown'd him in his days,

Whose ill-requited love did him much sorrow raise, At Le'ster by this war against king Henry show'd, Upon so had a cause, O courage ill bestow'd! Who, had thy quarrel been, as thou thyself was skill'd [fill'd

In brave and martial feats, thou evermore had This isle with thy high deeds, done in that bloody field:

But Bigot and this lord, inforc'd at length to yield Them to the other part, when on that fatal plain, Of th' English and the Dutch, ten thousand men lay slain.

"As for the second fight at Lincoln, betwixt those Who sided with the French, by seeking to depose Henry, the son of John, then young, and to

advance

The dauphin Lewis, son to Philip, king of France, Which Lincoln castle, then most straitly did besiege; [liege, And William Marshal, earl of Pembroke, for his (Who led the faithful lords) although so many there,

Or in the conflict slain, or taken prisoners were; Yet but for a surprise, no field appointed fight, 'Mongst our set battles here, may no way claim a right.

"The field at Lewes then, by our third Henry fought, [brought; Who Edward his brave son unto that conflict With Richard, then the king of Almain, and his son, Young Henry, with such lords as to his part he won, With him their sovereign liege, their lives that durst engage.

And the rebellious league of the proud baronage, By Simon Mountford, earl of Le'ster, their chief

From Edward, the young prince, defiances were sent To Mountford's valiant sons, lord Henry, Si n, and Guy,

And calling unto him a herald, quoth he, Fly To th'earl of Le'ster's tents, and publickly proclaim Defiance to his face, and to the Mountford's name, And say to his proud sons, say boldly thus from me; That if they be the same, that they would seem to be, [known,

Now let them in the field be by their band-rolls Where, as I make no doubt, their valour shall be shown.

Which if they dare to do, and still uphold their pride, [it decide.' There will we vent our spleens, where swords shall "To whom they thus reply'd, Tell that brave

man of hope,

He shall the Mountfords find in th' head of all their troop,

To answer his proud braves; our bilbows be as good As his, our arms as strong; and he shall find our blood

Sold at as dear a rate as his; and if we fall,
Tell him we'll hold so fast, his crown shall go withal,'