By thease ten boans*-Zo Roger zweare an oape, Ich wooll be thoyne, and God beevore ;— Then geat we growdes and boagpipes, harbs and dabors, To lead us on to end our loave's great labors. The Wedelocke. A borgen's a borgen, ich hard long agoe, Be merry, and a vig vor woe: Zing gleare, zing zweet and zure, Our zong zhall be but zhort. Musicke, foun and dancing, O'tis faliant zport. Then let this burden zweetly zung be ztill, Except to West-country folk this ballad must be nearly as incomprehensible as the unknown tongues: it is, however, well entitled to rank high amongst descriptions of rustic courtship. Nothing can be more natural than the manner in which Malkyn (spite of all her former prudent resolutions), is induced to consent; being partly satisfied with Hodge's swearing, and partly frightened into compliance by his mode of backing the affidavit. The Music of the first and second parts is by Ravenscroft; that of the conclusion and wedlock by Bennet. * Bones, sc. fingers. + We must here suppose that Hodge is enforcing his oath by a salute upon the fair lips of Malkyn. ORLANDO GIBBONS Was born at Cambridge in 1583, and died of the small-pox, to the great reluctancy of the court, (as Anthony Wood expresses it,) at Canterbury, whither he had gone in his capacity of Royal Organist, to be present at the marriage of Charles the First. This occurred in 1628. In 1612 he published his "First set of Madrigals and "Motetts, of five parts, apt for viols and voices, newly "composed by Orlando Gibbons, Batcheler of Music, and "Organist of His Majesty's Honorable Chapel in ordinary," and dedicated to "The Right worthy my much honoured "friend Sir Christopher Hatton, Knight of the Honorable "Order of the Bath. "Sir, "It is proportion that beautifies every thing; this whole "universe consists of it, and Music is measured by it, which "I have endeavoured to observe in the composition of "these few airs, but cannot in their dedication; for when 66 I compare your many favours with my demerits, your cu"rious ear with these harsh notes, there appears so plain a 66 disproportion between them, that I am afraid, lest in of"fering to your patronage songs in some tune, my action "herein should be out of all tune; yet have I made bold "to honour them with your name, that the world may take "notice, rather of my want of ability than good will to be "grateful; by which little outward demonstration you may easily guess at the greatness of my inward affection, as skilful geometricians do observe the true stature of "the whole body by sight of the foot only. 66 "Experience tells us that songs of this nature are usually "esteemed as they are well or ill performed; which excel"lent grace I am sure your unequalled love unto music "will not suffer them to want, that the author (whom you 66 They were no less love) may be free from disgrace. "most of them composed in your own house, and do there"fore properly belong unto you, as lord of the soil: the language they speak, you provided them; I only furnished "them with tongues to utter the same: they are like young scholars newly entered, that at first sing very "fearfully; it requires your patience therefore to bear "with their imperfections: they were taught to sing only "to delight you; and if you shall take any pleasure in "them, they have their end, and I my wish; a full recompense for my past labours, and a greater encourage"ment to present you with some future things more worthy "your patronage; till which opportunity, 66 "I rest, yours ever to command, "ORLANDO GIBBONS." It has been generally supposed (and indeed asserted, without due caution, as a positive fact) that Sir Christopher Hatton was the author of the poetry to these Madrigals. The assertion is founded upon a passage in the above dedication which I have printed in Italics, and I confess that the inference is plausible; so much so indeed, that I must plead guilty to having been one of those who coincided in that opinion, which perhaps was strengthened by another slight blunder, viz.supposing (without proper consideration) that Sir C. Hatton was The Sir Christopher, the great Lord Chancellor of England; who, honest man, died twenty years before the publication of Gibbons's book! The Sir Christopher in question was his nephew who died in 1619, and lies buried in Westminster Abbey. These circumstances first induced me to doubt, and having in the course of my researches connected with the illustration of these pages, discovered the authors of several of the Madrigals in the present set, I fear we must strip the laurel crown from the brow of the worthy Knight of the Bath, and consider him as the mere provider and not composer of the words. Amongst the numerous collections of the poetry of that age, I do not find a stanza attributed to any individual bearing the name of Hatton. There are twenty Madrigals in this set. CCXCVII. The silver swan, who living had no note; The fabulous notion of the swan singing immediately before its death has been a favourite one with all poets. The three first lines of the above are closely imitated from Ovid. "Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis 66 ...... Merchant of Venice. ......this pale faint swan "Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death; "His soul and body to their lasting rest." King John. The following beautiful lines on the same subject, bearing date 1625, are equal to any poetry I ever met with. "Look how the dying swan on Tagus' shore, "Singing a lullaby to her last sleep, "Ties to her golden tongue the leaping oar, "And binds th' ashamed water-nymphs to keep "Eternal silence-while the dumb waves stay, "And dare not with their murm'ring pebbles play; "Or through the rushes take their wonted way." Sonnet on Mr. W. Browne, Author of Britannia's Pastorals. A modern German writer (W. A. Schlegel), in a dialogue between the Swan and the Eagle, makes the former (with due allowance for the weakness of my translation) speak thus. "How calm, when these bonds shall be riv'n, "I'll hear the glad summons of death; "And with the soft music of Heav'n, "In melody yield my last breath!" Influenced no doubt by the extraordinary beauty of Gibbons's music, there is something almost affecting in the idea, even of a swan taking a final leave of the world with such calm serenity, and consoling itself with the reflection that there now live "more fools than wise." All his geese are swans is an old saying, applied to a person who is always boasting of what relates to himself. CCXCVIII. O that the learned poets of this time, Who in a love-sick line so well can speak ; * The rhyme seems to require this alteration. The original is find. |