All worldly thing braidith upon tyme;

The sonne chaungith, so doth the pale mone; The aureat noumbre in kalenders set for prime;

Fortune is double, dooth favour for no boone. And who that hath with that quene to doon,

Contraiously she will his chaunge dispose; Who sittith highest moost like to fall soon : √ All stant in chaunge like a mydsomer rose.

The golden chayre of Phebus in the eyre

Chasith mistis blake, that thay dar not appere ; At whos uprist mounteyns be maade so feyre,

As thei were newly gilt with his bemys clere. The night doth folowe, appallith all his chere, Whan Western wawis his stremys overclose; Reken all beauté, all fresshnes that is here,All stant in chaunge like a mydsomer rose.

Constreynt of colde makith floures dare

With winter frostes, that thei dar not appere; All clad in russet, the soil of grene is bare; Tellus and Ymo be dullid of theire chere.

By revolucion and turnyng of the yere,

A gery march his stondis doth disclose;

[clere,

Nowe reyne, nowe storme, nowe Phebus bright and All stant in chaunge like a mydsomer rose.

Where is nowe David, the moost worthy kyng

Of Juda and Israel, moost famous and notable? And where is Salamon, moost sovereyn of kunning, Richest of bylding, of tresoure incomperable;

Face of Absolon, moost fayre, moost amable?
Reken up ichoon, of trouth make no glose;
Reken up Jonathas, of frenship immutable;
All stant in chaunge like a mydsomer rose.

Where is Julius, proudest in his empire,

With his triumphes moost imperiall?
Where is Pirrus, that was lord and sire
Of Ynd, in his estate royall?

And where is Alexander, that conquerid all,
Failed laiser his testament to dispose;
Nabigodonosor, or Sadociopall?

All stant in chaunge like a mydsomer rose.

Where is Tullius with his sugrid tonge,

Or Crisostomus with his golden mouthe? The aureat dytees, that he rade and songe, Of Omerus in Grece, both North and South? The tragidés divers and unkouth

Of morall Senec, the misteries to unclose,

By many example is full kouth;

All stant on chaunge like a mydsomer rose.

Where been of Fraunce all the dozepiere,
Which in Gaule had the governaunce;

Vowis of pecok, with all ther proude chere;
The worthy nyne, with all ther high bobbaunce;
Trojan knyghtes, grettest of allyaunce;

The flees of golde conquerid in Colchos;

Rome and Cartage, moost soverayn of puisaunce? All stant on chaunge like a mydsomer rose.

Put in a som all marciall policy!

Complete in Affrike and boundis of Cartage;
The Theban legeon, exsaumple of Chyvalry,
At Rodomus ryver was expert there corage.
Ten thousand knyghtes, borne of grete parage,
The martirdome rade in metre and prose;
The golden crownes maade in the hevenly stage
Fressher then lilies, or ony somer rose.

The remembraunce of every famous knyght,-
Ground considred bilt on rightwissnes;
Rais oute iche quarell that is not bilt on right;
Withoute trouth what vailith high noblesse ?
Laurear of martirs, foundid on holynes!

White was maade reede there triumphes to disclose; The white lillye was there chaast clennes;

Theire blody sufferaunce was no somer rose.

It was the rose of the blody felde;

Rose of Jhericho that grue in Bedlem ;
The fyve rosis portraid in the shelde,
Splaid in the baner at Jherusalem.

The sonne was clips and dirke in every reme,
Whan Crist Jhesu five wellys list unclose,

Toward Paradise, callid the reede streme,

Of whos five woundes prynte in your herte a rose.

ADVICE TO AN OLD GENTLEMAN WHO WISHED FOR A YOUNG WIFE.

THE following poem is one of the best specimens of Lydgate's composition. It is taken from MS. Harl. 372, fol. 45-51; and is, I believe, the only copy of it known to exist. The subject is a very favourite one of the time, and a somewhat similar poem was printed by Wynkyn de Worde, under the title of "The Complainte of them that ben to late maryed."

THE PROHEMY OF A MARIAGE BETWIX AN OLDE MAN
AND A YONGE WIFE, AND THE COUNSAIL, &c.

A PHILOSOPHRE, a good clerk seculer,
Had a frend that sumwhat was aged,
In suche tymes as wyttes wex uncler,
Whiche frend of his was at last encoraged,
By flateres that by plesaunce hym faged,
To have a wife, as happethe oftyne tyme,
Where that requethe this fage this sory cryme.

And yet the man wolde his counsel take,
Of his trewe frende, the clerk that I of tolde,
Whiche was ful fayne feithful counsel to make,
For he was scient, expert, and ful bolde;
And spared nat the man thouhe he were olde,
For he set not by his wrethe a whistel,
But wrot to hym this esuyng epistel.

Myn olde dere frend, whi aske ye me counsaile ?
If ye shal wedde to plesaunce of your lif,

Fayne wolde ye wyte, if it were for availe
For you to have a goodly one to wyf,—
Yong, ffresshe, and fair, to stynt almaner strif,
To your semyng, and ye be ronne in age,
Which other men calle bondage and dotage.

Take good leyser or thou have mariage,
Be avised on Justynes counsail,
The long cart offte hath hevy cariage, v
War placebo, leave hym for thine avail.
After the knot it helpeth nat to bewail,
Thanne is to late to sey, if I had wiste,
Thynk on the end thouhe never so muche the liste.

Remembre wele on olde January,

Whiche maister Chauuceres ful seriously descry vethe,
And on fresshe May, and how Justyne did vary,
Fro placebo, but yet the olde man wyvethe;
Thus sone he wexethe blynde, and than outhry vethe
Fro worldly joye, for he sued bad doctryne;
Thenk on Damyan, Pluto, and Proserpyne.

Thenk wisely thus, I have but yeres fewe,
And feble I am, and febler shal bee;
If it me happe be coupled to a shrewe,
My dayes are done, I may not flyt ne flee;
To shorte my lif and make bonde that was free,
Become prentise and newe to go to scole;
Why shulde I so than, were I but a fole?