With coftly gifts and jewels fine,

They did endeavour her to win;

With banquets and the choicest wine,
For to allure her unto fin:

Most persons were of high degree,

65

Who courted fair Penelope.

With modesty and comely grace,
Their wanton fuits fhe did denye;
No tempting charms could e'er deface
Her dearest husband's memorye ;
But conftant she would still remain,
Hopeing to see him once again.

Her book her dayly comfort was,
And that she often did peruse;
She feldom looked in her glass;

Powder and paint fhe ne'er would ufe.

I wish all ladies were as free

From pride, as was Penelope.

She in her needle took delight,

And likewife in her fpinning-wheel;

Her maids about her every night
Did ufe the diftaff, and the reel :

The spiders, that on rafters twine,
Scarce fpin a thread more soft and fine.

Sometimes fhe would bewail the lofs

And abfence of her dearest love:
Sometimes fhe thought the feas to crofs,
Her fortune on the waves to prove.

I fear my lord is flain, quoth fhe,
He stays fo from Penelope.

At length the ten years fiege of Troy
Did end; in flames the city burn'd;

And to the Grecians was great joy,

To fee the towers to afhes turn'd;

Then came Ulyffes home to fee
His conftant, dear, Penelope.

O blame her not if she was glad,
When she her lord again had seen:
Thrice-welcome home, my dear, the faid,
A long time absent thou hast been:
The wars fhall never more deprive
Me of my lord whilst I'm alive.

Fair ladies all example take;

And hence a worthy leffon learn,

All youthful follies to fortake,

And vice from virtue to discern;

And let all women strive to be,
As conftant as Penelope.

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99

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IX. TO

XI.

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.

By Col. Richard Lovelace: from the volume of his poems, intitled, "Lucafta, Lond. 1649." 12mo. The elegance of this writer's manner would be more admired, if it had fomewhat more of fimplicity.

ELL me not, fweet, I am unkinde,'

TE

That from the nunnerie

Of thy chafte breast and quiet minde,

To warre and armes I flie.

True, a new mistreffe now I chase,

The first foe in the field;

And with a stronger faith imbrace
A fword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconftancy is fuch,

As you too fhall adore;

I could not love thee, deare, fo much,
Lov'd I not honour more.

5

10

XII.

VALENTINE AND UR SINE:

The old ftory-book of Valentine and Orfon (which fuggefted the plan of this tale. but it is not frictly followed in it) was originally a tranflation from the French, being one of their earliest attempts at romance. See "Le Bibliotheque "de Romans, &c."

The circumftance of the bridge of bells is taken from the old metrical legend of Sir Bevis, and has also been copied in the Seven Champions. The original lines are,

"Over the dyke a bridge there lay,

"That man and beeft might paffe away:
"Under the bryge were fixty belles ;
"Right as the Romans telies;
"That there might no man passe in,
"But all they rang with a gyn."

Sign. E. iv. In the Editor's folio MS. was an old Poem on this fubject, in a wretched corrupt flate, unworthy the prefs: from which were taken fuch particulars as could be adopted.

WH

PART THE FIRST.

HEN Flora 'gins to decke the fields
With colours fresh and fine,

Then holy clerkes their mattins fing
To good Saint Valentine!

The

The king of France that morning fair
He would a hunting ride:

To Artois foreft prancing forth

In all his princelye pride.

To grace his fports a courtly train

Of gallant peers attend;

And with their loud and cheerful cryes

The hills and valleys rend.

Through the deep forest swift they pass,
Through woods and thickets wild;

When down within a lonely dell

They found a new-born child;

All in a scarlet kercher lay'd

Of filk fo fine and thin:

A golden mantle wrapt him round

Pinn'd with a filver pin.

The fudden fight furpriz'd them all ;

The courtiers gather'd round;

They look, they call, the mother feek;

5

10

15

10

No mother could be found.

At length the king himself drew near,
And as he gazing stands,

25

The pretty babe look'd up and fmii'd,

And stretch'd his little hands.

Now,