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PERCY.

Whereby she seized was,

And then to Ludlow sent,

Where she was judged, condemned, and hanged,
For murder, incontinent.

There died this gallant quean,
Such was her greatest gains:
For murder, in Polonia,*

Was Barnwell hung in chains.

Lo! here's the end of youth,
That after harlots haunt;
Who in the spoils of other men,
About the streets do flaunt.

* Poland:-The ship was probably bound to Dantzic.

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD

TO HIS LOVE.

BY CHRISTOPHER MARLOW.

COME, live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hill and valley, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield!

There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There will I make thee beds of roses,
With a thousand fragrant poesies;
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,

Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.

* This song has been sometimes printed as Shakspeare's; but there is now very little doubt that it is rightly attributed to Marlow. It is assigned to him by Walton (who lived very near to his time), in his "Complete Angler,” wherein it is inserted, and described as " old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good;" and also an answer, by Sir Walter Raleigh; but this last is of inferior merit. A pleasing but extravagant poem was written in imitation of Marlow's, by Dr. Donne, who died in 1631. Christopher Marlow was a poet of very superior talents, but unhappily of unusually evil principles; and, in consequence, of very dissolute habits. This, however, the reader would hardly discover from his noble tragedy of "Faustus:" the conclusion of which, in particular, is very finely worked up. Marlow died, disgracefully, in 1593.

A gown made of the finest wool,

Which from our pretty lambs we'll pull;
Slippers lined choicely for the cold;
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw, and ivy buds,
With coral clasps, and amber studs :-
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Then live with me, and be my love!

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The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love!

PERCY.

A CHRISTMAS SONG.*

BY J. WITHERS.

[About 1630.]

So, now is come our joyfullest feast,
Let every man be jolly-

Each room with ivy leaves is dressed,

And every post with holly.

Though some churls at our mirth repine,

Round your foreheads garlands twine-
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine!
And let us all be merry!

Now, all our neighbours' chimneys smoke,
And Christmas-blocks are burning—
Their ovens they with bak'd meats choak,
And all their spits are turning :

* This song has been inserted, as containing a curious and faithful description of the Christmas manners of our ancestors: in some points, doubtless, degenerating sadly into evil and intemperance, and therefore open to animadversion; but in others, exhibiting a benevolence and simplicity of character which, it is much to be lamented, in our more advanced days is becoming obsolete and neglected, and in danger of complete extinction.

Without the door let sorrow lie;
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury 't in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry!

Now every lad is wond'rous trim,
And no man minds his labour-
Our lasses have provided them
A bagpipe and a tabour!

Young men and maids, and girls and boys,

Give life to one another's joys,

And you anon shall by their noise

Perceive that they are merry.

Rank misers now do sparing shun,

Their hall of music soundeth;

And dogs thence with whole shoulders run-
So all things there aboundeth.

The country folks themselves advance,
With croudy muttons out of France;

And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance,
And all the town be merry!

Ned Squash hath fetched his bands from pawn,

And all his best apparel;

Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn,

With droppings of the barrel.

And those that hardly, all the year,

Had bread to eat or rags to wear,

Will have both clothes and dainty fare,
And all the day be merry!

Now poor men to the Justices

With capons make their errants,

And if they hap to fail of these,

They plague them with their warrants ;

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