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From the same curious volume, belonging to Sion College, I am enabled to give an account of the following very rare tract:

An OULD FACIONED LOVE, or a Love of the Ould Facion. By T. T. Gent.

At London. Printed by P. S. for William Mattes, dwelling in fleetstrete, at the signe of the Hand and Plough. 1594.”

This Poem is inscribed to the Author's "Worshipfull and singular good friend Mistres Ann Robertes.

The Poem commences thus :

Countries delight, sweet Phillis, beutes pride,
Vouchsafe to read the lines Amyntas writeth,
And having red, within your boosome hide
What first of love my fearfull muse inditeth.

When once my mother set me flockes to keepe,
Bare fifteen years of age, in lether clad,
A maple hooke to get and hould my sheepe,
A waiting dogge, a homely scrip I had.

No skil in beauty, on love I never thought,
Yet but a boye the friendly shepheards route
Admitted me, and countrie secrets taught,
To heale my flocks, to fould them round about.

In threatned stormes to lead them to the lee,
To sheare in time, to drive the wolfe awaie,
To knowe the course of starres that fixed bee,
To pipe on meadow reeds each holy-daie.

To sing in time, as sometimes shepards use,
To daunce our jiggs on pasture grac'd with flowrs
What learnd I not, what toile did I refuse,
To quench loves flames and pass or'e idle houres ?

&c. &c.

The reader will easily suppose I have not given the above specimen, but as a literary curiosity. It obviously has little merit as a Poem.


The same curious volume, from which the above two articles are described, contains also the following, of no less rarity and value.


This Poem is dedicated To the Right Honorable Sir Peregrin Bartue, Knight, Lord of Willoughby and Earsby, and signed by the Author I. O.

The following is a specimen :

Lo here the teares and sad complaint for her,
Within whose gates all joyes were once abounding,
Faire Ilions teares whose deepe laments may stir
A flintie hart unto a sigh-resounding,


Yet for hirselfe doth Ilion not mone,
But for hir Hector, which is dead and gone.

Sweet sacred muses, you whose gentle eares
Are wont to listen to the humble praier
Of plaining poets, and to lend your teares
From your faire eyes unto a woes-displayer;

Now rest your selves, your ayde I not implore,
For in myselfe I find abundant store.

Nor can I crave upon your blubbered cheeks,
That you for me more showers should be raining,
Though you are kind to every one that seekes,
Yet have you matter for your own complaining.

I saw your tears, and pittifull wamentings,
But they are few that list to your lamentings.

Good-naturde nymphs you are too milde for me:
Troy tells of honor, and of divers things.
Let your faire ayde in love and musick be,
Or in his tongue which pleasant poem sings.

Furies and frensies are fit companie
To helpe to blase my wofull tragedie.


THIS Author, a Professor of Civil Law, was much esteemed in his day, and published many valuable works. He has, however, never been noticed as a Poet; but that he deserves to be so, will sufficiently appear from the following description and specimen of a curious little volume, which I believe to be unique, and which has been lent me by Mr. Thomas Payne, of the Mews Gate, whom I have invariably found prompt to assist the cause of literature.



Or, Passages of Cosmography, by Richard Zouche, Civillian of New College, in Oxford.

Sicut Columbæ.

London. Printed for George Norton, and are to be sould at his shop under the Black Bulle, neere Temple Barre. 1613."

The work is dedicated To the most noble and worthily honoured Edward Law Zouche, St. Maur and Cantelupe of his Majesties Privie Counsell.

The Poem is a concise geographical description of three quarters of the world, Asia, Africa, and Europe, in the manner of Dionysius. The following is the Author's Picture of Great Brittaine :



Great Brittaine shadow of the starry sphear's

Selfe viewing beauties true presented grace,
In Thetis myrrhour, on this orbe appeares,
In worth excelling as extolld in place:

Like the rich Croisade on th' imperiall ball,
As much adorning as surinounting all.

Bounded within the watry firmament,

Whose euer mouing streames about it role,
She measures forth her length in faire extent,
Towards the Southern, from the Northern Pole;

Betwixt her riuers Zone-dividing lines,
Each citie like a constellation shines.

Auon and Twede her tropicks, Zodiack wise
Passe Trent and Seuern: to the springing morne
Trent goes declining, Seuerne bending lyes
Downe by the Western, freez cloath Capricorne.

Thames, as th' equator, doth more eeuen runne,
Proud with the mansions of her biding sunne.

Maiesticke Sonne, long may thy kinde aspect
Shed downe sweet influence vpon this clime,

Beyond all enuy, as without defect,
Ruling but neuer altering our time,

Till passing from our teare bedewed eyes,
Thy glory in another heau’n shall rise.


Too soone our Julian Sturre late prince of light,
The sparkling lustre of whose vertuous ray
To Brittaine hearts content with shortest night,
Promisd the comfort of eternall day:


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