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Warton, a disguising were intended by the com. pany of goldsmiths,-a mask before his majesty at Eltham,-a May-game for the sheriffs and aldermen of London,-a mummery before the Lord Mayor, a procession of pageants from the Creation for the festival of Corpus Christi,—or a carol for the coronation,-Lydgate was consulted and gave the poetry."-He must have been the busiest man of his time, and one to whom nothing came amiss he traded in verse before the division of labour was understood. Lydgate is mentioned with contempt by Percy, scoffed at by Ritson, and pronounced stupid by Pinkerton. A critic in whom as much confidence may be placed, Gray the poet, places him next in rank to Chaucer, and before the chilling mediocre "Ancient Gower." The principal works of Lydgate are, The History of Thebes, The Fall of Princes, and The Siege of Troy. The following passage, pointed out by Gray, has great sweetness and feeling :

Out of her swoone when she did abbraide,
Knowing no mean but death in her distrèsse,
To her brother full piteouslie she said,
"Cause of my sorrowe, roote of my heavinesse,
That whilom were the sourse of my gladnesse,
When both our joyes by wille were so disposed,
Under one key our hearts to be enclosed.

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This is mine end, I may it not astarte;

*

O brother mine, there is no more to saye;
Lowly beseeching with mine whole heart
For to remember specially, I praye,

If it-befall my little sonne to dye,

That thou mayst after some mynd on us have,
Suffer us both be buried in one grave.

I hold him strictly twene my armès twein,
Thou and Nature laide on me this charge;
He, guiltless, mustè with me suffer paine,
And, sith thou art at freedom and at large,
Let kindnesse ourè love not so discharge,
But have a minde, wherever that thou be,
Once on a day upon my child and me.

On thee and me dependeth the trespace
Touching our guilt and our great offence,
But, welaway! most angelik of face

Our childè, young in his pure innocence,
Shall agayn right suffer death's violence,
Tender of limbes, God wote, full guiltèlesse
The goodly faire, that lieth here speechless.

A mouth he has, but wordis hath he none;
Cannot complaine alas! for none outrage:
Nor grutcheth not, but lies here all alone
Still as a lambe, most meke of his visage.
What heart of stèle could do to him damage,
Or suffer him dye, beholding the manere
And looke benigne of his twein eyen clere.

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Lydgate's poem, called The Life of our Lady, opens thus elegantly :

O thoughtfull hertè, plonged in distresse
With slombre of slouth, this long wynter's night!
Out of the slepe of mortal hevinesse

Awake anon, and loke upon the light

Of thilke sterre, that with her bemys bright,
And with the shynynge of her stremes meryè,
Is wont to glad all our hemisperie !-(a)

(a) Hemisphere.

This sterre in beautie passith Pleiades,
Bothe of shynynge, and eke of stremes clere,
Bootes, and Arctur, and also Iades,
And Esperus, whan that it doth appere:
For this is Spica, with her brightè spere, (a)
That toward evyn, at midnyght, and at morowe,
Downe from hevyn adawith (b) al our sorowe.-

And dryeth up the bytter terys wete
Of Aurora, after the morowe graye,
That she in wepying dothe on floures flete, (c)
In lusty Aprill, and in freshè Maye :

And causeth Phebus, the bryght somers daye,
Wyth his wayne gold-yborned, (d) bryght and fayre,
To' enchase the mystès of our cloudy ayre.

Now fayre sterre, O sterre of sterrys all!
Whose lyght to se the angels do delyte,
So let the gold-dewe of thy grace yfall
Into my breste, like scalys fayre and whyte,
Me to enspire! (e) *

*

The antiquaries, who magnify their favourites beyond all reasonable bounds, have been less than just to this clever, facile, and often elegant poet. The exact period of Lydgate's death is not known, It is placed about the year 1460.

From the decease of Lydgate, till near the splendid period of the reign of Elizabeth, there is a dreary void in English poetry, illumined only by those distant northern lights that streamed from Scotland. The first of these, in point of precedence and cultivation, if not of genius, is James I.,

(a) Sphere. (b) Affright; remove. (d) Burnished with gold.

(c) Float; drop. (e) Prologue.

who was born in 1395,-a few years before the death of Chaucer. His history and adventures are well known. He was made prisoner at sea, when a boy of ten years old, on his way to France to be educated at the court of Charles VI., and remained the captive of Henry IV. for twenty years, a period which he sedulously employed in the cultivation of his naturally happy genius, and in acquiring the accomplishments suited to his age and rank. Besides that skill in polite letters, of which his poetry leaves unquestionable proof, he excelled in all martial and knightly exercises, in music, wrestling, archery; but, above all, he, as Sir David Lyndsay afterwards counselled one of his successors," learned to be a king." James returned to his native kingdom not only the most accomplished prince, but the wisest sovereign in Europe; and in his short reign of twelve years did more to improve the condition of his subjects than had been done for ages before. Unhappily for his country, this illustrious prince was assassinated at Perth in the prime of his life, and before he had been able to carry into effect the excellent plans which his enlightened judgment suggested, and which his inflexible justice and energy of character would soon have accomplished. During his long captivity at Windsor, James saw and loved the' Lady Jane Beaufort, the grand-daughter of John of Gaunt. This passion was his inspiration; and his poem of the King's Quair celebrates his mistress, records his own story, and laments his captivity and pros

pects. Love repaid this devotion; and James obtained the Lady Jane, was restored to his liberty, and gained his throne, in consequence of an union which was supposed to attach him through his Queen to the interests of England, and to separate him from those of France, the natural ally of the Scottish monarchy. Romance never ended better than this tale of real life.

The King sees the Lady Jane from his prison window at Windsor, walking in a garden with her ladies at a very early hour :

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X.

The longe dayes and the nightis eke

I would bewail my fortune in this wise;
For which, against distress comfort to seek,
My custom was on mornis for to rise
Early as day: O happy exercise!
By thee come I to joy out of torment :-
But now to purpose of my first entent.

XI.

Bewailing in my chamber thus alone.
Despaired of all joy and remedy,
For-tired of my thought, and woe-begone,
Unto the window gan I walk in hie,

To see the world and folk that went forby;
As, for the time, (though I of mirthis food
Might have no more) to look it did me good.

XII.

Now was ther made, fast by the touris wall,

A garden fair; and in the corners set

An herber green, with wandis long and small
Railed about, and so with treeis set

Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet;
That life was none [a] walking there forby,
That might within scarce any wight espie.-

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