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With her judicious favours did infuse
Courage and strength into his younger muse;
How learned James, whose praise no end shall finde,
(But still enjoy a fame pure like his mind),
Who favoured quiet and the arts of peace
(Which in his halcion days found large increase);
Friend to the humblest if deserving swaine,
Who was himself a part of Phoebus' traine;
Declared great Johnson worthiest to receive
The garland which the Muses' hands did weave,
And though his bounty did sustaine his days,
Gave a more welcome pension in his praise;
How mighty Charles, amidst that weighty care,
In which three kingdoms as their blessing share,
Whom as it tends with ever watchful eyes,
That neither power may force, nor art surprise,
So bounded by no shore, grasps all the maine,
And far as Neptune claims, extends his raigne,
Found still some time to heare and to admire
The happy sounds of his harmonious lire,
And oft hath left his bright exalted throne,
And to his Muse's feet combined his own:
As did his Queen, whose person so disclosed
A brighter nymph than any masks disclosed,
When she did joine by an harmonious choice
Her graceful motions to his powerful voice;
How above all the rest was Phoebus fir'd
With love of arts, which he himself inspir'd,
Nor oftener by his light our sense was cheer'd,
Than he in person to his sight appeard'd;
Nor did he write a line, but to supply
With sacred flame the radiant God was by.
Hyl. Though none I ever heard this last rehearse,
I saw as much when I did see his verse.

Mel. Since he when living did such honors have,
What now will piety pay to his grave?
Shall of the rich (whose lives were low and vile,
And scarce deserve a grave, much less a pile)
The monuments possess an ample roome,
And such a wonder lye without a tombe?
Raise thou him one in verse, and there relate
His worth, thy griefe, and our deplored state;
His great perfections, our great loss unite,
And let them merely weepe who cannot write.

Hyl. I like thy saying, but oppose thy choice;
So great a taske as this requires a voice
Which must be heard and listen'd to by all;
And Fame's own trumpet but appears too small.
Then for my slender reede to sound his name,
Would more my folly than his praise proclaime;
And when you wish my weaknesse sing his worth,
You charge a mouse to bring a mountain forth.
I am by nature formed, by woes made dull,
My head is emptier than my heart is full;
Griefe doth my braine impaire, as tears supply,
Which makes my face so moist, my pen so dry.
Nor should this work proceed from woods and downes,

But from th' academies, courts and towns;
Let Digby, Carew, Killigrew, and Maine,
Godolphin, Waller, that inspired traine,
Or whose rare pen besides deserves the grace,
Or of an equal or a neighbouring place,
Answer thy wish, for none so fit appeares
To raise his tombe as who are left his heires;

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Yet for this cause no labour need be spent,
Writing his works he built his monument.
Mel. If to obey in this thy pen be lothe,

It will not seem thy weaknesse but thy sloth.
Our townes prest by our foes' invading might,
Our antient Druids and young virgins fight,
Employing feeble limbs to the best use;
So Johnson dead, no pen should plead excuse
For elegies, howle all who cannot sing,

For tombes, bring turf who cannot marble bring.
Let all their forces mix, joine verse to rime,
To save his fame from that invader, Time;
Whose power, though his alone may well restraine,
Yet to so wisht an end no care is vaine;
And Time, like what our brookes act in our sight,
Oft sinkes the weighty and upholds the light;
Besides to this, thy paines I strive to move,
Less to expresse his glory than thy love.
Not long before his death, our woods he meant
To visit, and descend from Thames to Trent.
Meete with thy elegy his pastorall,

And rise as much as he vouchsaft to fall.
Suppose it chance no other pen doe joine
In this attempt, and the whole worke be thine,
When the fierce fire the rash boy kindled, raign'd,
The whole world suffered-earth alone complain'd.
Suppose that many more intend the same,

More taught by art and better known to fame;
To that great deluge, which so farre destroy'd,
The earth her springs as Heaven her showers emploid,
So may, who highest marks of honours weares,
Admit meane partners in this flood of tears;
So oft the humblest joine with loftiest things,
Nor onely princes weepe the fate of kings.

Hyl. I yield, I yield! Thy words my thoughts have fir'd,

And I am less persuaded than inspir'd;
Speech shall give sorrow vent, and that reliefe,
The woods shall echo all the citie's griefe.
I oft have verse on meaner subjects made:
Should I give presents and leave debts unpaid?
Want of invention here is no excuse,

My matter I shall find, and not produce.
And (as it fares in crowds) I onely doubt

So much would passe, that nothing would get out;
Else in this worke which now my thoughts intend,
I shall find nothing hard but how to end.

I then but ask fit time to smooth my layes,
(And imitate in this the pen I praise)

Which by the subject's power embalm'd may last,
Whilst the sun light, the earth doth shadows cast;
And feather'd by those winges, fly among men―
Farre as the fame of Poetry and BEN.

1. A Speech on ill-Councillors about the King. 1640.

2. A Speech against the Lord Keeper Finch and the Judges.

3. A Speech against the Bishops. Feb. 9, 1640.


In our next article we shall continue Lord Falkland's poetical productions and we shall terminate this by a list of what appears of his in prose.

4. A Draught of a Speech concerning Episcopacy, found among printed at Oxford. 1644.


5. A Discourse concerning Episcopacy.


6. A Discourse on the Infallibility of the Church of Rome. [One G. Holland, a Popish priest, replying to this, his Lordship published the following answer] :

7. A view of some exceptions made against the discourse of the Infallibility of the Church of Rome.

8. A Letter to Mr. F. M. [Printed at the end of Mr. Charles Gataker's Answer to five captious Questions.] 1673. 4to.

9. A Letter to Doctor Beale, Master of St. John's Coll. Camb.


Lord Falkland is said to have assisted Chillingworth in his book called the Religion of Protestants: this is asserted by Bishop Barlow, in his "Genuine Remains." There appear to be two original portraits of him existing one at Lord Hyde's, and another at Longleat. His father, Henry Lord Carey, was also an author: indeed, there are no less than four of this illustrious name who appear in Walpole's work. The creation of the title of Viscount Falkland took place 10th November, 1620.

(To be continued.)

Antient Tenures of Land, and Jocular Customs, &c. By T. Blount. 1679. 12mo.

Page 8-" Robertus Testard tenuit quandam terram in villa de Guldeford per serjantiam custodiendi meretrices in Domini Regis." By 'meretrices,' was in those times understood laundresses." This is true; but still the word shows of what composition the washers of linen were framed. So also p. 82"Hamo de Gatton tenet manerium de Gateshull in com. Surrey de Domino Rege per serjantiam ut erit mareschallus meretricum, cum Dominus Rex venerit in partibus illis, &c."-The laundresses were properly called 'lotrices.'

P. 69-" Walterus de Hevene tenuit manerium de Runham in com. Norfolk in capite de Domino Rege per serjantiam duarum mutarum vini facti de Permains. Hence it appears that Permain cider was called wine in the time of Edward the First." This was called vinum Piracium, vin Poirace; there was also vinum Rcsatum. The book on the wines of this period is the Onomasticon Brunsfeldii.

P. 79-" Petrus de Baldewyn tenet quandam serjantiam in Cumbes in com. Surrey, ad collegendam lanam Dominæ Reginæ per albas spinas." What is albas spinas? Does it mean the flocks of wool that the sheep have left on the white thorn?

P. 89-" Et habent chaceam suam per totam Balivam forestæ predictæ, ad lepores, vulpes, murilegos, tessones, et ad omnimodas hujusmodi vermes." Murilegi is translated by Mr. Blount wild cats;' but I doubt whether correctly. Wild cats are called catti.' I think it means the polecat, stoat, and weazel, which last is called murilegus, or mouse-hound, corrupted to mouse-hunt. P. 60-" Currendi ad lupum, vulpem, et cattum, et amovendi omnem verminam extra forestam," &c.

P. 38-" I do not know what kind of dogs is meant by unam meutam canum Hayrectorum ad custum Domini Regis,” &c. P. 39—“ Harriers are called ' Harrecti caniculi,' or beagles.


I shall end these trifling observations with extracting some verses under the head of "Cholmer cum Dancing in com. Essex. Carta Edwardi Confessoris : Iche Edward Konyng Both by day and eke by night. Have geven of my forest the keping And houndes for to holde, Of the Hundred of Cholmer and Danc- Gode and swift and bolde, Four greyhounds and six braches, For hare, and fox, and wild cats, And thereof Ich made hym my bock, Witness the Bishop Wolston, And book ylered many one, And Sweyn of Essex our brother, And te ken him many other, And our steward Howelyn, That besought me for him.

To Randolf Peperking, and to his kind-
With heart and hynd, doe and bock,
Hare and fox, cat and brock,
Wild fowel with his flock,

Partrich, fesaunt hen, and fesaunt cock,
With green and wild stob and stock,
To kepen and to yemen with all their


King Alfred's Anglo-Saxon Version of the Metres of Boethius, with an English translation, and notes, by the Rev. Samuel Fox, M.A. of Pembroke College, Oxford; translator of the Poetical Calender of the AngloSaxons.

A TASTE for Anglo-Saxon literature is still increasing. The most unequivocal proof of this is, the constant demand for standard Anglo-Saxon books. To meet this demand, several works in prose and poetry have within a few years been published. Among those in prose we have "The Will of King Alfred," with an English translation and notes, a well-edited and neatly executed volume of 32 pages. Mr. Cardale's fine but cheap edition of King Alfred's Anglo-Saxon Version of Boethius De Consolatione Philosophie, with an amended text, and a very valuable literal English version, with learned and judicious notes. More recently Mr. Thorpe has favoured the public with a neat and cheap edition of the interesting story of Apollonius of Tyre. The Saxon text cannot be too much commended for its accuracy, and for the care which has been taken in giving the accents precisely as in the MS. The English version deserves praise for its accuracy and spirit. Commendation is due to the AngloSaxon text, and the English translation, of the same gentleman's larger and far more difficult work, Cadman's metrical paraphrase of parts of the Holy Scriptures, with notes, and a verbal index. In poetry we have also The Menologium, or Poetical Calender of the Anglo-Saxons: it has attracted our attention by its neatness, and secured our approbation by the care with which it was prepared by the Rev. S. Fox. We ought not to forget the neat edition of Beowulf, by J. M. Kemble, Esq. This fine but difficult poem should be accompanied with a translation and notes, which, with an AngloSaxon Glossary, by the same editor, is, we hear, on the eve of publication. The last and the most deserving of our present notice is the Rev. S. Fox's edition of King Alfred's Version of the GENT. MAG. VOL. IV.

Metres of Boethius. Here we have a corrected Anglo-Saxon text, with a literal and spirited English translation, which in a striking manner often represents the style and rhythm of the Anglo-Saxon. He has judiciously followed the MS., and because that is without accents, he has omitted them in his very neatly printed volume.

Mr. Cardale has well observed that the works of Alfred have been always classed among those writings which exhibit the Anglo-Saxon language in its greatest purity. Considered in this point of view, every one of his literary productions is interesting and valuable. But his Boethius possesses a higher claim to attention. In his other translations, Alfred has seldom introduced any original matter. In this, on the contrary, he aspires to the character of an original author; exercises his own judgment; amplifies some parts, abridges others, and adds a variety of remarks and illustrations. The work of Boethius, De Consolatione Philosophie, independently of its intrinsic merit, is interesting from the circumstances under which it was written. Boethius, a Christian philosopher, was made consul in Á.D. 510. For his defence of Albinus, Theodoric the Gothic King of Italy cast him into prison. This immortal work was composed during his long confinement, which was terminated by his death. It furnishes a practical illustration of its own lessons, and proves that the author, under his misfortunes, enjoyed every consolation which religion and philosophy could afford. To considerations of this sort may be attributed the general predilection for this work during the middle ages. We have reason to believe that Alfred received comfort from it during the calamities which attended the early part of his reign.

Alfred's poetical versions of the metres was a subsequent work. The introduction, originally prefixed to the Cottonian MS. and therefore properly given by Mr. Fox, is evidently not the production of Alfred himself, as will be clear from the first five lines.


No more the Trojan's wandering voyage boast, coast; What storms he brav'd on many a per❜lous No more let Rome exult in Trojan's


Her eastern conquests Ammon's pride procla m.

A nobler hero's deeds demand my lays
Than e'er adorn'd a song of ancient days.
Illustrious Gama, whom the waves obey'd,
And whose dread sword the fate of em-
pires sway'd!

And you, fair nymph of Tagus! parent
If e'er your meadows were my pastoral
While you have listen'd, and by moon-
shine seen,
My footsteps wander o'er your banks of
Oh come! auspicious, and the song inspire,
With all the boldness of your hero's fire;
Deep and majestic let the numbers flow,
And rapt to Heaven with ardent fury glow.
Unlike the verse that speaks the lover's
When heaving sighs afford their soft
And humble reeds bewail the shepherd's
But like the warlike trumpet be the
To rouse the hero's ire; and far around
With equal rage your warrior's deed re-

And thou, oh! born the pledge of happier
To guard our freedom and our glories
Given to the world to spread religious
And pour o'er many a land the mental
Thy future honors on thy shield behold,
The cross and victor's wreath emboss'd
in gold.

At thy commanding frown we trust to see
The Turk and Arab bend the suppliant

knee; Beneath the morn, dread king, thy empire lies, [skies; When midnight veils thy Lusitanian And when descending in the western main, The sun still rises on thy lengthening reign, &c.


Arms, and the daring man who from the shore

And with the song, your fame, great Kings, be blended,

Who far around your faith and empire spread;

Whose heavy fwrath on Afric's realms descended,

To whom sad Asia bends her humbled head;

And ye who, following on where valour led,

Heroes your hand from Death's stern laws have freed,

Far as the sunbeams o'er the earth are shed,

Would I proclaim each bright trium-
phant deed, [deign to heed.
If this my lowly prayer high genius

Name not the Trojan, or renowned Greek,
Sad wanderers over ocean's pathless
[to seek,
Nor him who dar'd the Dacian wastes
Nor him of Pella, Victory's favour'd

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I sing the Lusian chief-the victor mild,
Whom earth and sea acknowledged as
their lord,
Search not the heathen page with crime
Cease, Muse, thine ancient story to re-
[heart and sword.
Far nobler theme is mine, far worthier
Nymphs of the Tagus, ye who in my
Have kindled up the sacred fire of
If strain of mine, when your bright waters
Tuned to their praise was ever poured
Now be my Muse like your own currents
[roic tale,
Sweet, full, and clear, and o'er the he-
Scatter what splendour to the theme be-

Then e'en Castalia's sacred fount shall
[cloud to sail.
O'er your fair brows to cause one envious
Pour forth the sounding fury-not the lay
Of idle pipe or lover's gentle lute;
But the loud trumpet blast that in the day
Of battle, in the fierce and hot pursuit,
Doth the tir'd arm and wearier heart re-

Oh! for an equal ardour, that the strain,
Deeds e'en like yours, ye Lusian chiefs!
may suit,
'Till the Isles echo them beyond the
If e'er my simple Muse such glorious fate

Of western Lusitania's fair domain, Through seas unplough'd by venturous bark before,

Sail'd on beyond the far off Taprobane.
Sing, Muse, their perils on the stormy And thou, O Prince, on whom our hopes
[man might
are founded,
Their conquests wide for more than hu
E'en to the mightiest promis'd to ob-
And that vast empire which to glory's
They rais'd in lands remote in darkest
Pagan night.

Of Lusitania's ancient freedom; thou
Whose arm shall burst the barriers that
have bounded
Christ's flock on earth for ages-even
Afric's swarth Moor before thy lance
doth bow:
Pride of our age, to thee! to thee I

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