« PreviousContinue »
So likewise by Gods #ighty hafide,
And many captives did sette free,
Twenty five ships were then preparde,
With masters good and marriners parę
The best navigators in this lande,
In country's strąunge beyond the sea,
SIR FRANCIS HUBERT.
THE ñame of this English Poet does not appear, either in the first or last edition of Phillips's Theatrum Poetarum, or in Ritson's Biographia Poeticà. But the author of an Epic Poem, and that by no means contemptible in plan or execution, in the spirit or harmony of versification, should not be entirely forgotten, I am happy in this opportunity of contributing to its preservation.
The following Poem is in the Pritish Museum,
“ THE HISTORIE OF EDWARD THE SECOND), SURNAMED CARNARVON, one of our English Kings, together with the Fatall Down-fall of his two unfortunate Favorites, Gaveston and Spencer. Now published by the Author thereof, according to the true originall Copie, and purged from those foule Errors and Corruptions wherewith that spurious and surreptitious Peece which lately came forth, under the same sytle, was too much defiled and deformed.
With the Addition of some other Obseryations, both of Use and Ornament. By F. H. Knight.
London. Printed by B. A. and T. F. for L. Chapman, and are to be sold at the upper end of Chancery Lane. 1629.”
Prefixed is a head of the unfortunate Edward; and the Poem is dedicated to the Authors “
very loving Brother, Mr. Richard Hubert.
This Poem must have been of some notoriety in its day, for the Author complains that a surreptitious copy had been industriously circulated. The dedication to the author's brother thus concludes:
“And so humbly desiring the Almighty to blesse you, both in soule, body and estate, I rest not your Servant, according to the new and fine but false phrase of the time, but in honest old English, your loving Brother and true Friend for ever.
The following is a specimen of the Poem:
O sacred vertue, what a powerfull guard
But they both see and tast, and love and nourish
What understandinge soule, that doth not know,
Hee shall be ever able to command
Flight was our best defence, and flye we did,
A gloomie night concluded his faire morne,
O what is hon úr but an exhalation?
There breeds a little beast by Nilus streames,
Borne, old, and dead, and all but in a day:
How much more happy is that sweet estate,
But living to itselfe in sweet content,
He lives indeed, and spendes his course of time
His soul and body make one comon wealth,
He feares no poysons in his meates and drinkes,
And by observing what hath earst beene done,
ON the suggestion of my friend Mr. George Chalmers, I give the following Poetical Tract a place in this Collection :
“A GODLY DREAM.
Lady Culros Younger,
Matthew vii. '13. and Luke süi. 24. Enter in at the strayt gate, for wyde is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to de struction, and manie there bee which
in theres &t.
Aberdene. Imprinted by E. Raban, Laird of Letters, and are to bee sold at his shop, at the end of the Broad Gate. 1644."