Tell arts they have no soundnesse, 50 55 60 But vary by esteeming ; Tell schooles they want profoundnesse Tell faith it's fled the citie; So when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbing, Although to give the lye Deserves no less than stabbing, Yet stab at thee who will, V. Verses by King James K. In the first edition of this book were inserted, by way of specimen of His Majesty's poetic talents, some Punning Verses made on the disputations at Stirling; but it having been suggested to the Editor, that the king only gave the quibbling commendations in prose, and that some obsequious court-rhymer put them into metre,' it was thought proper to exchange them for two sonnets of King James's own composition. James was a great versifier, and therefore out of the multitude of his poems we have here selected two, which (to show our impartiality) are written in his best and his worst manner. The first would not dishonour any writer of that time; the second is a most complete example of the Bathos. A SONNET ADDRESSED BY KING JAMES TO HIS SON From King James's Works in folio: where is also printed another, called His Majesty's OWN Sonnet: it would perhaps be to cruel to infer from thence that this was NOT His Majesty's own Sonnet. GOD gives not kings the stile of gods in vaine, Observe the statutes of our heavenly King; 10 A SONNET OCCASIONED BY THE BAD WEATHER WHICH IN JANUARY, 1616. This is printed from Drummond of Hawthornden's Works, folio: where also may be seen some verses of Lord Stirling upon this Sonnet, which concludes with the finest anti-climax I remember to have seen. How cruelly these catives do conspire! What loathsome love breeds such a baleful band 'See a folio entitled The Muses Welcome to King James. 2 Saturn. And him, who wont to quench debate and iro Among the Romans when his ports were clos'd!3 The earth ore-covered with a sheet of snow, Refuses food to fowl, to bird, and beast; The chilling cold lets every thing to grow, And surfeits cattle with a starving feast. Curs'd be that love and mought continue short, 5 10 VI. King John and the Abbot of Canterbury. The common popular ballad of King John and the Abbot seems to have been abridged and modernised about the time of James I. from one much older, entitled King John and the Bishop of Canterbury The Editor's folio MS. contains a copy of this last, but in too corrupt a state to be reprinted; it however afforded many lines worth reviving, which will be found inserted in the ensuing stanzas. The archness of the following questions and answers hath been much admired by our old ballad-makers; for besides the two copies above mentioned, there is extant another ballad on the same subject (but of no great antiquity or merit), entitled King Olfrey and the Abbot." Lastly, about the time of the civil wars, when the cry ran against the bishops, some Puritan worked up the same story into a very doleful ditty, to a solemn tune, concerning "King Henry and a Bishop;" with this stinging moral: "Unlearned men hard matters out can find, When learned bishops princes eyes do blind." The following is chiefly printed from an ancient black-letter copy, to the tune of "Derry down." An ancient story Ile tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John; 1 See the collection of Historical Ballads, 3 vols., 1727. Mr. Wise supposes Olfrey to be a corruption of Alfred, in his pamphlet coacerning the WHITE HORSE in Berkshire, p. 15. And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye, An hundred men, the king did heare say, 5 10 15 20 "My liege," quo' the abbot, "I would it were knowne "And first, "quo' the king, "when I'm in this stead, 25 30 "Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, "O, these are hard questions for my shallow witt, 335 40 Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, That could with his learning an answer devise. Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, 45 "Sad newes, sad newes, shepheard, I must give, 50 "The first is to tell him there in that stead, 55 60 "Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, 66 "Nay frowne not, if it hath bin told unto mee, I am like your lordship, as ever may bee; There is none shall knowe us at fair London towne." "Now horses and serving-men thou shalt have, "Now, welcome, sire abbot," the king he did say 65 710 75 |