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Towching the methode and invention, even as Petrark in his workes De remediis utriusque fortunæ doth recoupt the uncerteine joyes of men in severall dialogues, so have I in these elegies distributed the same into sundrie songs, and have hetherto perfected but fowre of the first, the which I humbly commend unto your noble sensure and gracious correction. And therewithall I proffer in like manner that if your Matic shall lyke the woorke, and deeme it worthy of publication, I will then shrinke for no pains untill I have (in such songes) touched all the common places of mans perylous pleasures.

But without the confirmation of your favorable acceptains (your Matie well knoweth) I will never presume to publish any thing hereafter, and that being well considered (compared also withe the unspeakable comfort which I have conce ved in your Matis undeserved favor) maie sufficiently witnes without further triall that doubtfull

greevous doubtes, do often accompanye oure greatest joyes.

Howsoever it be, I right humbly beseeche youre heighness to accept this Nifle for a new yeres gyfte, and therewithal to pardon the boldnes of your servaunt who eftsoones presumethe by contemplation to kysse youre delicate and most honourable handes, and voweth willingly to purchase the continewance of youre comforte, by any deathe or perill, which occasion maye

present exercyse

greeves and

present for accomplishment of any least service acceptable to so worthie a Queene, whome God preserve this first of January, 1577, and ever. Amen.

Youre Maties joyfull greeved servant,

GEORGE GASCOIGNE.

four songs.

The Poem consists of what the Author calls

At the end of the last he has written“ Left unperfect for feare of horsmen.

Tam Marti quam Mercurio.

The following specimen of the Poem is taken from the fourth song or section.

I graunt yong mynds may youthfully delight
Yn sondrie sortes of

and

sporte;
I graunt the meane to heele a heavy spright
Ys myrth and glee where idly guests resort ;
I graunt that pastyme ys the lowly porte
Wherein mans mynde maie shrewd yt selfe full oft,
Whyle crewell cares bestowe theire blasts alloft.

But as the bell can hardly holde the hawke
From soaring sometymes when shee list to gadd,
Even so the mynde whiche woontedly dothe walke,
In fancies fields most ljke a lusty ladd,
Can seldom be so bridled from the badd,
But that delight maie drawe one foote to farre
Whilst
vayne excesse,

the mery meane doth marre.

То

To prove this tiew who shall the game begynne?
Must MUSICKE first bewraye her vayne delight,
And must she saye that, as the fowlers gynne
Doth lye full close in depthe of dangers dight,
Whiles yet his pype doth play in pleasaunt plight,
Even soe her sweet consents beguyle sometymes
The highest harte in harmonye that clymes ?

Alas alas, who sooner deathe deceave
Then doe the CIRENES with their sugred songes?
Of all the wooes that wanton worldlyngs weave
I finde not one more thrall to guylefull throngs
Then is the moane to MUSICKE that belongs ;
Since * mellyshe mowthes can worst awaye with gall,
As f highest clymes are most afearde to fall.

Yn deede suche dynne appeasethe angrye mynds,
And MELANCHOLYE ys removed thereby,
Somtymes removed, somtymes encrease yt fynds,
When madness leades the mowrneful moode

awrye:
For MUSICKE waytes, and where yt can espye
Or moane or myrthe yt dothe theire #hewmore feede
And what they dreamt yt makes them doe yndeede.

Sett me asyde and harke to holly syres,
Whose dyverse doomes maye skarce discusse the doubt;
For AMBROS E first the use thereof requres
Yn everie churche and all the worlde abowt;
But ATHANASE forbadd the same throughowt;

* No doubt the Author means honied, though I never remember to have seen this word.

+ They who climb highest,
| Humour.
Holy fathers.

Att

Att last came Austine like a dreamyng dadd,
And dyed in doubt yf it were good or badd.

Yt is a treuth, and cannot be denyed,
That mUsICKE styrres some mynds to godly thought;
It is as trew, and hath byn often tryed,
That MUSICKE styrres moe myndes to be but nought.
Yt maie be founde yf it be rightly sought
That MUSICKE makes mo mery myndes starke madd,
Then secrete prayer

sufferethe to be sadd.

The serpent tickleth whome she list to sting,
The surgeon stroketh whome he meanes to strike,
The fowler whistleth whome he fayne would wryng,
The Polipus with calling drawes in dike
The dazled wyghts, whome she to drowne doth like,
And musycke mufflethe many men with joy,
Whose myrth excesse turnes quickly to anoy.

Amongst the vaynes of variable joyes
I must confesse that MUSICKE pleasd me ones,
But whiles I searcht the semiquaver toyes,
The glancing sharpes, the halfe notes for the nones,
And all that serves to grace owre gladsome grones,
I found a flate of follye owt of frame,
Which made me graunt my MUSICKE was but lame.

I meane I founde that ravished thereby,
My wandring mynde sometyme forgott yt selfe,
And reason ranne his * cowrce so farr awrye,
That ere I wyst my wytts were set on shelfe,
Of trothe my braynes so full were of such pelfe,

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That some reporte contynually dyd ryng
Within myne eares, and made me seeme to singe.

I coulde not reade, but I must tune my words;
I coulde not speake, but as yt were by note;
I coulde not muze, but that I thought some byrds
Withein my brest did rellease all by rote;
I coulde not praye but eare there past my throte
Fyve faithefull boones to God for my request,
I soonge the syxth and quyte forgot the rest.

Laugh nott, SWEETE QUEENE, for I shall not be founde
The'onely man whiche sleping in delight
Hathe alwaies dreamt a MUSICKES silver sounde.
Some singe soe longe till they bee madde owtright;
And thoughe the wise come seldome in suche plight,
Yet Plato pleasd in MUSICKE so to dreame,
He thought yt helpt the rulyng of a realme.

And wonderfull it is that NEROES mynde
Which all the worlde and more coulde not suffize,
Was never seene so playnely to be pynde,
As MUSICKE set the same before owre eyes.
Soe greate a king to dye in hastie wyse,
Ytt greeved hym nott, but that so sweete a synger
Should dye so sone that sorrowe seemde a stynger.

And lyke the swanne he soong before his deathe,
Whiche maie suffise to prove the * tyckell trust,
That can be buylt upon our fading breathe;
Yt
maye

suffise to shewe that all oure lust At last will leave us yn the depthe of dust;

* I presume ticklish is here meant.

Yt

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