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A28578
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Latine songs with their English, and poems by Henry Bold ... ; collected and perfected by Captain William Bold.; Carmina et poemata. English & Latin
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Bold, Henry, 1627-1683.; Bold, William.
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1685
(1685)
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Wing B3471; ESTC R18326
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40,913
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190
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either side IV. Thy Charming voice is much more free Then after it thy hearers be Nay thy voice is so firm and Clear That it inspires love through the Ear. VVho then can hope for a defence Since thou hast chrams for every sence V. I must confess a while I strove With reasons to resist my love As Saints sometimes 'gainst death do pray Though 't be to heaven the only way 'T is Cloris only hath the skill To make me blest against my will VI. Nor will I so much as indure To think inconstancy a Cure For were I to that sin but bent Here would it prove my punishment Where to adore I must Confess Is better then elswhere success VII To see thee and not be in love A wonder like thy self would prove Thy charmes by vertue and by Art Do each of them deserve an Heart So that my sorrow is not small I have but one to pay them all POEM LXIII The new Year To the ever Honored Mrs. M. H. Madam WHen I perceive the lease bund tenants prove Their vn-mal'd Foules fit Emblems of their love Which they Coop up like the Tyth-Pig I mean Not to approve in fat but keep them lean I fear when I with Annual Tribute come A single offering not an Hecatombe And starvling verses on your Alter lay In lieu of what the Indyes cannot pay That in a just dislike as of that Crew You will conclude that I 'me ill guisted too But I assume the Complement they make Madam I wish 't were better for your sake But as it is Live long and Happy that your Age may be As a Continual lasting Jubilee And be it made the business of your life To prove the Joyes of a Beloved Wife Yet never know the same and may all those Sorrows Contriv'd for you befall your Foes And let your Marriage Computation run With even Feet for every year a Sun And what we do in other Children call A Dutious-Love in them be Naturall Last having left a fair posterity To stock the Earth ascend unto the Skye Where you shall reap the Joyes of Heavens store When years shall cease and time shall be no more SONG XLIV Mock I. FUll twenty times over and twenty to that I musing have wondred what t is you 'd be at You pine and look pale like the liquors that 's flat For he 's a cold Drinker That now will turn skinker Since thus runs the play Since thus runs the play If you sit up all night you are ready next day Since thus runs the play If you sit up all night you are ready next day II. There 's a Pipe ready Broach'd that would not be shut With Legions of bottles prepar'd for the gut If you give but your mind to 't you 'l swallow a But. Then stand not so dully But laver the Gully VVith beer-bowl in fist VVith beer-bowl in fist If you charge him but well you may hit whom you i st VVith beer-bowl in fist III. Some idle Companions when with them you sit Will talk and fly high as if they had all the wit But alas it appears there the Devil a bit Their Bisket Jests after They 've steept in their laughter VVith their pipes being broke VVith their pipes being broke And their Tobacco once out they will vanish in smoak VVith their pipes c. IV. Some stately proud high Boys will rant it call As if they would tipple the devil and all But stand to them stiffly they will easily fall Then to it nere fear them Set foot and come near them By drinking about By drinking about Be their heads ne're so empty they can ne're hold it out By drinking about Be there heads ne're so empty they can nere hold it out V. Some Punyes whose Cheekes are with blushes o're laid To fuddle a gallon will not be afraid Put them to 't and but tell them they drink like a maid Then cry but have at it Lads will you be at it If e're they refuse If e're they refuse To water as thou dost or I let them chuse If e're they refuse To water as thou dost or I let them chuse SONG XLV Mock I. GOod Gaffer stand a loofe With your tinder-box hoof That strikes fire at each stroak VVith a fume that choake One sooner then the vapour of matcâ— Your stamps and your shrugs Your claps and your hugs Your salute with a stroak That would fell down an Oak VVith Zounds Rogue how dost And such clouted accost You may keep for the Clods and the Thatch You 'r a Creature below us to bondage accurst When the beasts vnto Adam were subjected first II. Titles are but a sign To that which is within To let you Clounes know What duty you owe To their vertue and birth that do bear them Else would you gape wider On the Horse then the Rider With admiration adore Dick the Constable more VVhen with state he doth sit VVith Rug gown and no wit Then Robes or the nobles that wear them A tough back 's the best Herauld you peasants can have And the heigth of your title a lusty stout Knave No clothes can controule A Gentlemans Soul But still hee 'l appear All glorious and Clear Through the Clouds of blew breeches and patching VVhile you though daub'd o're VVith that you adore Gold lace cannot hide Or change your inside But that we may know Though glittering go You 've a Soule that is scarce worth the thatching A lord though in rags still looks like the Law VVrit in worme eaten bookes that strikes terrour and Awe IV. VVe all are but dust Yet differ we must For if you can say Bacon broth and sowr whey With which the Veins of you Bores swolne be Is the same or as good As that generous Bloud Which flows from the Springs Of Princes and Kings The way to be forgot Were to be Valiant and stout Since our deeds Live no longer then we Our Children the Gout and our Acres inherit And why not what 's our own too our Titles and Merit V. Then in your thatch sit And drink Ale as 't is fit And if you aspire Be it but to drink higher Call for sack and let State things alone Or if you do look Into a News Book Be it but to advise How your Rents may arise And new Cesses and Rates To Genteelize your Estates And inable you by being undone So may you gain Honour while your no Cares afford You leasure to tipple and be as drunk's a Lord. SONG XLV I. PRethee Friend leave of thy thinking Cast thy Cares of Love away Sorrows still are drown'd in Drinking Do not longer then delay Bacchus Sweares it is his will That we should be drinking still II. Do but View this Glass of Clarret How invitingly it looks Drink it quickly or you 'l marr it Pox of Fighting and of Books Fill us then good store of VVine And hang him up that doth repine III. Call the drawer bid him fill it Full
whose prowess did surmount L. For Witherington needs must I wail as one in doleful dumps For when his legs were smitten off he fought upon his stumps LI. And with Earl Douglas there was slain Sir Hugh Montgomery Sir Charles Currel that from the field one foot would never flie LII Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliff too his Sisters Son was he Sir David Lamb so well esteem'd Yet saved could not be LIII And the Lord Markwel in likewise did with Earl Douglas die Of twenty hundred Scotish Spears scarce fifty five did fly LIV Of fifteen hundred English men went home but fifty three The rest were slain in Chevy-Chase under the Green-Wood tree LV. Next day did many widdows come their Husbands to bewail They washt their wounds in brinish tears but all would not prevail LVI Their bodies bath'd in purple blood they bore with them away They kist them dead a thousand times when they were clad in clay LVII This news was brought to Edenburg Where Scotlands King did reign That brave Earl Dowglas suddenly was with an Arrow slain LVIII O heavy news King James did say Scotland can witness be I have not any Captain more of such account as he LIX Like tidings to King Henry came within as short a space That Peircy of Northumberland was slain in Chevy-Chase LX. Now God be with him said our King sith't will no better be I trust I have within my Realm five hundred as good as he LXI Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say but I will vengeance take And be revenged on them all for brave Earl Pircies sake LXII This vow full well the K. perform'd after an Humble Down In one day fifty Knights were slain with Lords of great renown LXIII And of the rest of small account did many hundreds dye Thus ended the hunting of Chevy-Chase made by the Earl Piercy LXIV God save the King and bless the Land in plenty joy and Peace And grant henceforth that foul debate 'twixt Noble men may cease SONG XXII I. SIR Francis Sir Francis his own Son Sir William Sir Thomas and all did run Then came my Lord of Southhampton And shew'd himself a gallant Man II. Then came the Chamberlain with his Staff And all the People 'gan to Laugh At length the Queen began to speak You 'r welcome home Sir Francis Drake III. Ye Nobles all of Brittish Blood Why Sayle ye not o're the Ocean Flood In truth you are not worth Filberd Compared to Sir Humphry Gilberd IV. For he went out on a Rainy day To New-found-land he took his way Most Rare and Comely to be seen But never came back God save the Queen SONG XXIII I. I 'Le tell you all both great and small I tell you all truly That we have cause and very great cause For to Lament and Cry Fy Oh! fy oh fy oh fy Fy on thee Cruel Death For thou hast ta'ne away from us Our Queen Elizabeth II. Thou mayst have taken other folks That better might be mist And have let our Queen alone Who lov'd no Popish Priest In Peace she rul'd all this Land Beholding unto no Man And did the Pope of Rome withstand And yet was but a Woman III. A Woman said I nay that is more Then any one can tell So fair she was so chast she was That no one knew it well With that from France came Monsier o're A purpose for to woe her Yet still she liv'd and Dy'd a Maid Do what they could unto her IV. She never acted any ill thing That made her Conscience prick her Nor never would submit to him That called is Christs Vicar But rather chose couragiously To Fight under Christs Banner 'Gainst Pope and Turk and King of Spain And all that durst withstand her V. But if that I had Argus Eyes They were to few to weep For our Queen Elizabeth That now is fal'n a sleep A sleep indeed where she shall rest Until the day of Doom And then shall rise unto the shame Of the great Pope of Rome SONG XXIV An Ode UNder 500 Kings three Kingdoms groan Go Finch dissolve them Charles is in the Throne And by th'Grace of God will Reign alone II. What will the Commons have The Royal line Heaven doth dispose of 'T is not theirs or mine But his by whom Kings Rule and are Divine III. I represent the King of Kings who gave The Crown the Sword the Scepter that I have I am Gods Servant not the Peoples slave IV. Their Frantick Votes and mad Resolves I hate I know a better way to heal the State Then to Sin rashly and Repent too late SONG XXV I. GReat Alexanders Horse Bucephalus by name Brave Writers have inrol'd within the books of fame But Poor Will Pickerings Mare So far she did excel She never run the Race But she bore away the Bell. But for Tyhe whyhee hrk prp for Caper and Career All Holland could not shew You such another Mare II But now the News is come His bonny Mare is Dead Whereat he stampts and swears He had rather ha' lost his head But for Tyhee c. III. Her foremost shoos she gave Unto some Popish Fool To carry him to Rome For a Pardon for his Soul But for Tyhee c. IV. Her hinder shoos that had Plaid many a Jadish trick She gave unto curst Wives Their Husbands us'd to kick But for Tyhee c SONG XXVI I. FRom the faire Lavinian shoar I your Market come to store Muse not that so far off I dwell And come here my ware to sell Such is the sacred hunger of Gold Then come to my Pack While I cry What do ye lack Or what d' ye buy For here it is to be sold. II. Though thy Father thee before Neither armes or Scutcheon bore Or thy Gentry been as young As the Rose that 's newly blown Canst thou find in thine heart to part with thy Gold Then come to me Lad Thou shalt have What thy Dad Yet never gave For Heraldry's to be sold. III. Madam for your wrinckled face Here 's Complexion it to grace Which if your earnest be but small It takes away the vertues all But if your Palmes are anoynted with Gold Then you shall seem Like a Queen of fiftteen Though you are threescore years old SONG XXVII I. THou art not fair for all thy red and white Nor all those Rosy Ornaments in thee Thou art not sweet nor made for mere delight Nor sweet nor fair unless thou pity me I will not I will not sooth thy fancies thou shalt prove So ill a Creature no Man thee shall love II. Neither Love thou me nor think thou to allure My thoughts with beauty were it more divine Thy smiles and kisses I cannot indure I 'le not be wrapt up in those Eyes of thine Now shew now shew it if thou art a Woman right Embrace and Kiss and love me in despight SONG XXVIII I. WHY so pale and wand fond Lover Prethee why so pale If looking well thou