Reliques of ancient English poetry, by T. Percy

When as the extasie had end,

Did tenderly imbrace;

And for their wedding, and their wish
Got fitting time and place.

Not England (for of Hengist then
Was named so this land)

Then Curan had an hardier knight;

His force could none withstand: Whose sheep-hooke laid apart, he then Had higher things in hand.

First, making knowne his lawfull claime
In Argentile her right,

He warr'd in Diria,* and he wonne
Bernicia* too in fight:

And so from trecherous Edel tooke
At once his life and crowne,
And of Northumberland was king,
Long raigning in renowne.

XXV.-CORIN'S FATE.

ONLY the three first stanzas of this song are ancient; these are extracted from a small quarto MS. in the Editor's possession, written in the time of Queen Elizabeth. As they seem to want application, this has been attempted by a modern hand.

XXVI.-JANE SHORE,

TIE wife of one Shore, a goldsmith in Lombard Street, and the beautiful mistress of Edward the Fourth, of whom Sir Thomas More says: 'Proper she was and faire, nothing in her body that you would have changed, but if you would have wished her somewhat higher. Yet delighted not men so much in her bewty as in her pleasant behaviour. For a proper wit had she, and could both rede wel and write; mery in company, ready and wick of answer, neither mute nor ful of bable; sometimes taunting without displeasure, and not without disport." The king said of all his favourites "the meriest was the Shore's wife, in whom the king therefore toke special pleasure." 'For many," goes on More, he had, but her he loved whose favour, to sai the trouth (for sinne it were to belie the devil), she never abused to any man's hurt, but to many a man's comfort and relief. Where the king toke displeasure, she would mitigate and appease his mind: where men were out of favour she would bring them in his grace: for many that had highly offended shee obtained pardon." In fact, though sinful and erring herself, she was of kind and generous spirit, and extended her charity to all who stood in need of it.

All this More wrote thirty years after the death of Edward the Fourth, and long after Jane Shore had done open penance in St. Paul's Churchyard by command of Richard the Third, whose anger against her was not so much aroused by her sins as by the kindness and partiality she and Lord Hastings-to whom she became attached after the death of her royal lover-entertained for the young princes. Hastings was beheaded and Jane did penance, but by her beauty won more compassion than Richard won commendation, though none dared to bestow any charity upon her.

Drayton describes her as meane (short) of stature, "her haire of a dark yellow, her face round and full, her eye gray, delicate harmony being betwixt each parts proportion and each proportion's colour, her body fat, white, and smooth, her countenance cheerfull and like to her condition." But the days of her youth and pleasure passed away, and in the reign of Henry the Eighth, More says she was "lene, withered, and dried up, and nothing left but ryvilde skin and bone "-that "at this daye shee beggeth of many at this daye living."

There is an original picture of Jane Shore at the Provost's Lodgings at Eton, and another is in the Provost's Lodge at King's College, Cambridge, to both of which foundations she is supposed to have done friendly offices with Edward the Fourth. To every stanza is annexed the following burthen:

"Then maids and wives in time amend,
For love and beauty will have end."

IF Rosamonde that was so faire,
Had cause her sorrowes to declare,
Then let Jane Shore with sorrowe sing,
That was beloved of a king.

In maiden yeares my beautye bright
Was loved dear of lord and knight;

But yet the love that they requir'd,
It was not as my friends desir'd.
My parents they, for thirst of gaine,
A husband for me did obtaine;
And I, their pleasure to fulfille,
Was forc'd to wedd against my wille.

To Matthew Shore I was a wife,
Till lust brought ruin to my life;
And then my life I lewdlye spent,
Which makes my soul for to lament.

In Lombard-street I once did dwelle,
As London yet can witness welle;
Where many gallants did beholde
My beautye in a shop of golde.

I spred my plumes, as wantons doe,
Some sweet and secret friende to wooe,
Because chast love I did not finde

Agreeing to my wanton minde.

At last my name in court did ring
Into the eares of Englandes king,
Who came and lik'd, and love requir'd,
But I made coye what he desir'd:

Yet Mistress Blague, a neighbour neare,
Whose friendship I esteemed deare,
Did saye, It was a gallant thing
To be beloved of a king.

By her persuasions I was led
For to defile my marriage-bed,
And wronge my wedded husband Shore,
Whom I had married yeares before.

In heart and mind I did rejoyce,
That I had made so sweet a choice;
And therefore did my state resigne,
To be king Edward's concubine.

From city then to court I went,
To reape the pleasures of content;
There had the joyes that love could bring,
And knew the secrets of a king.

When I was thus advanc'd on highe,
Commanding Edward with mine eye,
For Mrs. Blague I in short space
Obtainde a livinge from his grace.

No friende I had but in short time
I made unto a promotion climbe;
But yet for all this costlye pride,
My husbande could not mee abide.

His bed, though wronged by a king,
His heart with deadlye griefe did sting;
From England then he goes away
To end his life beyond the sea.

He could not live to see his name
Impaired by my wanton shame;
Although a prince of peerlesse might
Did reape the pleasure of his right.

Long time I lived in the courte,
With lords and ladies of great sorte;
And when I smil'd all men were glad,
But when I frown'd my prince grewe sad.

But yet a gentle minde I bore
To helplesse people, that were poore;
I still redrest the orphans crye,
And sav'd their lives condemnd to dye.

I still had ruth on widowes tears,
I succour'd babes of tender yeares;
And never look'd for other gaine
But love and thankes for all my paine.

At last my royall king did dye,
And then my dayes of woe grew nighe;
When crook-back Richard got the crowne,
King Edwards friends were soon put
downe.

I then was punisht for my sin,
That I so long had lived in ;
Yea, every one that was his friend,
This tyrant brought to shamefull end.

Then for my lewd and wanton life,
That made a strumpet of a wife,
I penance did in Lombard-street,
In shamefull manner in a sheet.

Where many thousands did me viewe,
Who late in court my credit knewe;
Which made the teares run down my face,
To thinke upon my foul disgrace.

Not thus content, they took from mee
My goodes, my livings, and my fee,
And charg'd that none should me relieve,
Nor any succour to me give.

Then unto Mrs. Blague I went,
To whom my jewels I had sent,
In hope therebye to ease my want,
When riches fail'd, and love grew scant :

But she denyed to me the same,
When in my need for them I came ;
To recompence my former love,
Out of her doores shee did me shove.

So love did vanish with my state,
Which now my soul repents too late ;
Therefore example take by mee,
For friendship parts in povertic.

But yet one friend among the rest, Whom I before had seen distrest, And sav'd his life, condemn'd to die, Did give me food to succour me :

For which, by lawe, it was decreed
That he was hanged for that deed;
His death did grieve me so much more,
Than had I dyed myself therefore.

Then those to whom I had done good,
Durst not afford mee any food;
Whereby I begged all the day,
And still in streets by night I lay.

My gowns beset with pearl and gold, Were turn'd to simple garments old; My chains and gems and golden rings, To filthy rags and loathsome things.

Thus was I scorn'd of maid and wife, For leading such a wicked life;

Both sucking babes and children small,

Did make their pastime at my fall.

I could not get one bit of bread,
Whereby my hunger might he fed :
Nor drink, but such as channels yield,
Or stinking ditches in the field.

Thus, weary of my life, at lengthe
I yielded up my vital strength
Within a ditch of loathsome scent,
Where carrion dogs did much frequent :

The which now since my dying daye,
Is Shoreditch call'd, as writers saye;'
Which is a witness of my sinne,
For being concubine to a king.

You wanton wives, that fall to lust,
Be you assur'd that God is just;
Whoredome shall not escape his hand,
Nor pride unpunish'd in this land.

If God to me such shame did bring,
That yielded only to a king,
How shall they scape that daily run
To practise sin with every one?

You husbands, match not but for love, Lest some disliking after prove; Women, be warn'd when you are wives, What plagues are due to sinful lives:

Then, maids and wives, in time amend,

For love and beauty will have end.

But it had this name long before, being so called from its being a common sewer (vulgarly shore) or drain. See Stow.

XXVII.-CORYDON'S DOLEFUL KNELL.

THIS little simple elegy is given, with some corrections, from two copies, one of which is in The golden garland of princely delights.

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