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The Ghyrlond of the Blessed Virgin Marie.
[From "The Female Glory; or, the Life and Death of our Blessed Lady, the holy Virgin Mary, God's own Immaculate Mother. London, printed by Thomas Harper, for John Waterson. 1635." I doubt much whether these stanzas are Jonson's.-F. C.]
Here are five letters in this blessed name,
The M the Myrtle, A the Almonds claim,
To top the fairest Lily now that grows,
But lowly laid, as on the earth asleep,
The gladdest ground to all the num-But that which sums all is the Eglantine,
Is so implexéd, and laid in between,
As Love here studied to keep Grace alive.
The second string is the sweet Almond bloom,
Upmounted high upon Selinis crest; As it alone, and only it, had room
To knit thy crown, and glorify the rest.
The third is from the garden called the
The Eye of flowers, worthy for his scent
Which, of the field, is classed the sweetest brier,
Inflamed with ardour to that mystic shine
In Moses' bush, unwasted in the fire.
Divinest graces, are so intermixed
The Reverse, on the Back Side.
These Mysteries do point to three more | Most holy and pure Virgin, blessed Maid,
Sweet tree of life, King David's strength
Daughter, and Mother, and the Spouse of Great Queen of Queens, most mild, most
Alike of kin to that most blessed Trine Of persons, yet in Union ONE divine, How are thy gifts and graces blazed abroad!
meek, most wise,
Most venerable Cause of all our joy,
Whose cheerful look our sadness doth
And art the spotless mirror to man's eyes
Who like a Giant hastes his course to run, Till he hath reached his two-fold point of Noon.
How are thy gifts and graces blazed abroad Through all the lines of this circumference,
T'imprint in all purged hearts this virgin
Of being Daughter, Mother, Spouse of GOD.
Cock Lorrel's Song.
[In the recently published volume of "Loose and Humorous Songs, from Bishop Percy's folio MS.," is a version of the Cocklorrel Song in the Gipsies Metamorphosed which contains a multitude of various readings, and the following six stanzas, which take the place of the single one, commencing "The jowl of a jailor served for a fish," at vol. iii. p. 156 6.-F. C.]
Then broiled and broacht on a butcher's | These got him so fierce a stomach again prick [skewer], That now he wants meat whereon to feed-a;
The kidney came in of a Holy Sister; This bit had almost made his devilship sick,
That his doctor did fear he would need a glister:
"For hark," quoth he, "how his belly rumbles !"
And then with his paw-that was a
He pulled-to a pie of a Traitor's numbles,
The jowl of a Jailor was served for a fish,
Two Aldermen lobsters asleep in a dish,
[These spirited, and thoroughly Jonsonian stanzas, are prefixed to a Poem, published in 1603, with the following title," PANCHARIS: The first Booke, containing The Preparation of the Love betweene Owen Tudyr, and the Queene, long since intended to her Maiden Majestie; And now dedicated to The Invincible James, Second and greater Monarch of Great Britaine, King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, with the Islands adjacent. Printed at London by V. S. for Clement Knight. 1603." This work, of which only one copy is known to exist (among Burton's books in the Bodleian) was first described in 1865 by Mr. Collier, in his Bibliographical Catalogue, vol. ii. p. 443, and afterwards reprinted in the following year in his " green series," or "Illustrations of our Old English Literature.' Particular attention was called by him to this Ode of Jonson's, which has notwithstanding been overlooked by Mr. Hazlitt. The notices of Scotland are especially interesting, as showing for how many years before he actually visited it, the localities of his ancestral land had occupied his mind. His mention of the drinking habits of the Danes, in the same year in which Hamlet was first published, has hitherto escaped Shakspearian commentators.-F. C.]
That late were out.
From Zephyr's rape would close him with Where neither force can bend, nor fear can
And more hath wone o Upon the Kerne, and wildest Irishry Than time hath done,
Whose strength is above strength,
The nimble French,
The Dutch, whom wealth (not hatred) doth divide,
The Danes that drench
Their cares in wine: with sure Though slower Spaine, and Italy mature.
And conquers all things; yea itself, at All which, when they but hear a strain
Of thine shall think the Maine Hath sent her Mermaides in,
To hold them here;
Yet, looking in thy face, they shall begin To lose that fear;
And (in the place) envy
So black a bird so bright a qualitie.