CONTENTS.

PAGE

Anonymous Poems 90-104, 111, 126, 127, 130, 131, 204-211, 243-245,

266-283, 286-289, 296, 297

BARLOW, Franciscan Friar (c. 1528); JEROME
BOORDE, Doctor of Physic (1490-1549); ANDREW
DOUGLAS, Bishop of DUNKELD (1474-1522); GAVIN

GRAY (c. 1530); WILLIAM

HENRY VIII (1491-1547); King

HOWARD, Earl of SURREY (1517-1547); HENRY .

LYNDESAY, of the Mount, Lyon King of Arms (1490-1555);

252-265

284, 285

212-242

89

105

106-110

49-88

Sir DAVID

MORE, Lord Chancellor of England (1478–1535); Sir THOMAS

290-295

112-125

PARKER, Lord MORLEY (1476-1556); HENRY

128, 129

Roy, Franciscan Friar (c. 1528); WILLIAM

252-265

SKELTON (1460-1529); Rev. JOHN

132-203

VAUX, Lord VAUX (1510-1556); THOMAS

246-251

WYATT the Elder (1503-1542); Sir THOMAS.

I-48

THE

SURREY AND WYATT

ANTHOLOGY.

1509-1547 A. D.

Strictly speaking, this Collection of our Poetry during the reign of HENRY VIII should be called The WYATT and SURREY Anthology; for Sir THOMAS WYATT the Elder was not only the nobler man and the nobler Poet of the two: but it was he that brought the Sonnet Stanza, together with Terza Rima and Blank Verse, into England from Italy. It is however customary to say SURREY and WYATT, simply because the former was a Peer.

SIR THOMAS WYATT.

ALAS! Madam! for stealing of a kiss,

Have I so much your mind therein offended? Have I then done so grievously amiss,

That, by no means, the matter may be amended? Then, revenge you! and the next way is this. Another kiss shall have my life through ended! For to my mouth the first my heart did suck; The next shall clean out of my breast it pluck!

THEY flee from me, that sometime did me seek,
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
[Once] I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek ;
That now are wild, and do not remember
That sometime they put themselves in danger
To take bread at my hand: and now they range,
Busily seeking, with a continual change.

Thanked be Fortune! it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better! But once, in special,
In thin array, after a pleasant guise,

When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,
And She me caught in her arms long and small,
Therewithal sweetly [She] did me kiss;

And softly said, 'Dear Heart! how like you this?'

It was no dream! [for] I lay broad waking!
But all is turnèd, through my gentleness,
Into a strange fashion of forsaking ;

And I have leave to go, of her goodness!
And She also, to use new fangleness!

But since that I so [un]kindly am served,

I would fain know, What She hath deserved?

WHOSO list to hunt, I know where is a Hind!
But as for me, helas! I may no more!
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that furthest come behind!
Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind
Draw from the Deer! but as she fleeth afore,
Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind!
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,

As well as I, may spend his time in vain!
And graven with diamonds, in letters plain,
There is written, her fair neck round about,
'Noli me tangere! for CÆSAR's I am;

And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

My Galley, charged with forgetfulness,

Through sharp seas, in winter nights, doth pass 'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas! That is my Lord, steereth with cruelness. And, every hour, a thought in readiness,

As though that death were light in such a case. An endless Wind doth tear the Sail apace,

Of forced sighs, and trusty fearfulness.

A Rain of tears, a Cloud of dark disdain,

Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance, Wreathed with error, and eke with ignorance. The Stars be hid, that led me to this pain. Drowned is Reason, that should me comfort; And I remain, despairing of my port.