The fire that all things eke consumeth clean,
May hurt and heal: then if that this be true,
I trust some time my harm may be my health,
Since every woe is joined with some wealth.

THOMAS TUSSER, another poet of the age of Henry the Eighth, though in genius much inferior to either the Earl of Surrey or Sir Thomas Wyatt, was of an ancient family, and was born 1523, but at what place is unknown. He received a liberal education, and commenced life at court, under the patronage of Lord Paget; but not being adapted to a court life, he turned his attention to farming, and for a number of years pursued that course of life, successively in Sussex, Ipswich, Essex, Norwich, and other places. Not succeeding in that calling, he left it and followed other occupations, among which was that of a chorister, and it is said, a fiddler. As might be expected of one so inconstant, he did not prosper in the world, but died poor in London, 1580, in the fifty-eighth year of his age.

Tusser's poem, entitled a Hundreth Good Points of Husbandrie, which was first published in 1557, contains a series of practical directions for farming, expressed in simple and inelegant, though not always, dull verse. It has, however, the honor of being the first regular didactic poem in the language. From this poem we select the two following extracts :—

HOUSEWIFELY PHYSIC.

Good huswife provides, ere a sickness do come,
Of sundry good things in her house to have some.
Good aqua composita, and vinegar tart,
Rose-water and treacle to comfort thine heart.
Cold herbs in her garden, for agues that burn,
That over-strong heat to good temper may turn.
White endive, and succory, with spinach enow;

All such with good pot herbs, should follow the plough.
Get water of fumitory, liver to cool,

And others the like, or else lie like a fool.

Conserves of barbary, quinces and such,
With sirops that easeth the sickly so much.
Ask Medicus' counsel, ere medicine ye take,
And honour that man for necessity's sake.

Though thousands hate physic, because of the cost,
Yet thousands it helpeth, that else should be lost.

Good broth, and good keeping, do much now and than:

Good diet, with wisdom, best comforteth man.

In health, to be stirring shall profit thee best;

In sickness, hate trouble; seek quiet and rest.
Remember thy soul; let no fancy prevail;
Make ready to God-ward; let faith never quail:
The sooner thyself thou submittest to God,
The sooner he ceaseth to scourge with his rod.

MORAL REFLECTIONS ON THE WIND.

Though winds do rage as winds were wood,1
And cause spring-tides to raise great flood;
And lofty ships leave anchor in mud,
Bereaving many of life and of blood;
Yet, true it is, as cow chews cud,

And trees, at spring, doth yield forth bud,
Except wind stands as never it stood,

It is an ill wind turns none to good.

ANDREW BOURD, physician to Henry the Eighth, was contemporary with Tusser, and was the author of the following lines, which form an inscription under the picture of an Englishman, naked, with a roll of cloth in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other. The poem is chiefly valuable at the present time as indicating the English spirit of that age.

CHARACTERISTIC OF AN ENGLISHMAN.

I am an Englishman, and naked I stand here,
Musing in my mind what garment I shall wear,
For now I will wear this, and now I will wear that,
Now I will wear I can not tell what:

All new fashions be pleasant to me,

I will have them whether I thrive or thee:

Now I am a fisher, all men on me look
What should I do but set cock on the hoop?
What do I care if all the world me fail,

I will have a garment reach to my tail.
Then I am a minion, for I wear the new guise,
The next year after I hope to be wise-
Not only in wearing my gorgeous array,
For I will go to learning a whole summer's day;

I will learn Latin, Hebrew, Greek and French,
And I will learn Dutch sitting on my bench.
I do fear no man, each man feareth me;

I overcome my adversaries by land and by sea:

I had no peer if to myself I were true;
Because I am not so diverse times do I rue:
Yet I lack nothing, I have all things at will,

If I were wise, and would hold myself still,

And meddle with no matters but to me pertaining,
But ever to be true to God and my king.
But I have such matters rolling in my pate,
That I will and do-I can not tell what.

No man shall let me, but I will have my mind,
And to father, mother, and friend, I'll be unkind.
I will follow mine own mind, and mine old trade;
Who shall let me ? The devil's nails are unpared.
Yet above all things new fashions I love well,

And to wear them my thrift I will sell.

In all this world I shall have but a time:

Hold the cup, good fellow, here is thine and mine!

1 Mad.

We shall conclude our remarks upon the English poets and poetry of the period extending from Chaucer to Elizabeth, by the introduction of a few miscellaneous poems, written, in all probability, during the reign of Henry the Eighth, and that of his son and successor Edward the Sixth. The first two of these poems are remarkable for being among the earliest verses in which the metaphysical refinements, so manifest in the subsequent period, are discerned. The first is a poet's praise of his lady, but of the writer we have no knowledge.

A PRAISE OF HIS (THE POET'S) LADY.

Give place, you ladies, and be gone.
Boast not yourselves at all!
For here at hand approacheth one,
Whose face will stain you all!

The virtue of her lively looks
Excels the precious stone:

I wish to have none other books
To read or look upon.

In each of her two crystal eyes
Smileth a naked boy:

It would you all in heart suffice
To see that lamp of joy.

I think nature hath lost the mold,
Where she her shape did take;

Or else I doubt if nature could

So fair a creature make.

O Lord, it is a world to see
How virtue can repair,
And deck in her such honesty
Whom nature made so fair!

Truly she doth as far exceed
Our women now-a-days,
As doth the gilly flower a weed,
And more a thousand ways.

How might I do to get a graff

Of this unspotted tree?

For all the rest are plain but chaff,
Which seem good corn to be.

This gift alone I shall her give:
When Death doth what he can,
Her honest fame shall ever live
Within the mouth of man.

The second of these poems, Amantium Iræ amoris redintegratio est, was written by RICHARD EDWARDS, a court musician and poet, who was born 1523, and died 1566; but no farther information of him has been left on record.

AMANTIUM IRE AMORIS REDINTEGRATIO EST.

In going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept,
I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept.
She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest,
That would not cease, but cried still, in sucking at her breast.
She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child,
She rocked it, and rated it, until on her it smil'd;

Then did she say, 'Now have I found the proverb true to prove,
The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'

Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write,
In register for to remain of such a worthy wight.

As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat,
Much matter utter'd she of weight in place whereas she sat;
And proved plain, there was no beast, nor creature bearing life,
Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife:
Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God above,
'The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'

'I marvel much, pardie,' quoth she, 'for to behold the rout,
To see man, woman, boy, and beast, to toss the world about;
Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothly smile,
And some embrace others in arms, and there think many a wile.
Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and some stout,
Yet are they never friends indeed until they once fall out.'
Thus ended she her song, and said, before she did remove,
'The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'

The third of these poems is the far famed Nut-Brown Maid. gard to the date and author of this poem, no certainty exists. Prior, who

With re

founded his 'Henry and Emma' upon it, fixes its date about 1400; but others, judging from its comparatively modern language, suppose it to have been composed subsequently to the time of Surrey. The poem opens with a declaration of the author that the faith of woman is stronger than is generally supposed; in proof of which he purposes to relate the trial to which the Nut-Brown Mayde' was exposed by her lover. The following stanzas form a dialogue between the pair:

THE NUT-BROWN MAID.

HE.-It standeth so; a deed is do',
Whereof great harm shall grow:
My destiny is for to die

A shameful death I trow;

Or else to flee: the one must be,
None other may I know,

But to withdraw as an outlaw,

And take me to my bow,

Wherefore adieu, my own heart true!
None other rede I can:

For I must to the green wood go,

Alone, a banished man.

SHE. O Lord what is this world's bliss,

That changeth as the moon!

My summer's day in lusty May

Is darked before the noon.

I hear you say, Farewell: Nay, nay,
We depart not so soon.

Why say ye so? whither will ye go?
Alas! what have ye done?

All my welfare to sorrow and care
Should change if ye were gone;

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE.-I can believe, it shall you grieve,
And somewhat you distrain:

But afterwards, your paines hard

Within a day or twain

Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take

Comfort to you again.

Why should ye ought, for to make thought?

Your labor were in vain.

And thus I do, and pray to you,

As heartily as I can;

For I must to the green wood go,

Alone, a banished man.

SHE NOW sith that ye have showed to me

The secret of your mind,

I shall be plain to you again,

Like as ye shall me find.
Sith it is so that ye will go,
I will not live behind;

G

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