328 "Like that sweet Saint that sate at Russell's side."

Lengthened to a broadside-ballad, it will meet us in a later volume of The Roxburghe Ballads (being in Roxb. Coll., II. 312), entitled "Love's Triumph over Bashfulness; or, The Pleas of Honour and Chastity over-ruled." The original Song has only two verses :— The Debate: A Song.

ON the bank of a River, close under the shade,

Young Cloris and Sylvia one evening were laid;

The youth pleaded strongly for proof of his Love,
But Honour had won her his flame to reprove.

She cry'd, "Where's the lustre, when clouds shade the Sun ?
Or what is rich Nectar, the taste being gone?

Mongst flowers on the stalk sweetest odours do dwell;
But, if gather'd, the Rose it self loses the smell."

"Thou dearest of Nymphs," the brisk Shepherd reply'd,
If e'er thou wilt argue, begin on Love's side:

In matters of State let grave Reason be shown,
But Love is a Power will be ruled by none.

Nor should a coy Beauty be counted so rare,

For Scandal can blast both the Chaste and the Fair.
Most fierce are the joys Love's Alembick do fill,

And the Roses are sweetest when put to the Still."

Mention is made in the following ballad of Rachel Lady Russell, one whose virtues deserve all our admiration, although we fail to recognize any extraordinary merit in the man who had the honour of being her husband. In fact, whatever was estimable in him may fairly be considered to have been developed solely by her influence. Without her he would have continued to be a commonplace person, and with every advantage of her society he remained little more.

It is true that only a few days after his death she wrote of him as "the best husband in the world," when she was "a woman amazed with grief" (Letter to Charles II.); and that more than a year later she could feel and say (to Dr. Fitzwilliam), "An inestimable treasure I did lose, and with whom I had lived in the highest pitch of this world's felicity." But this was natural to her sweet and loving spirit, thus attaching to his memory qualities beyond his own merits. Hers was indeed a true and honest heart. She records, "I strive to reflect how large my portion of good things has been; and though they are passed away, no more to return, yet I have a pleasant work to do: dress up my soul for my desired change, and fit it for the converse of angels and spirits of just men made perfect; amongst whom my hope is my loved Lord is one; and my often repeated prayer to my God is, that if I have a reasonable ground for that hope, it may give a refreshment to my poor soul." (31 January, 168.)

Such women generally fall to an inferior class of men.

[Roxburghe Collection, III. 796.]

A Terror for Traitors;

Dr,

Treason Justly Punished.

Being a Relation of a quшre Conspiracy against the Life of the King and the Subversion of the Government, hatch'd and contrived by ill-affected Persons, namely, Captain Thomas Walcot, William Hone, and John Rouse, who were drawn, hang'd, and quarter'd, for High-Treason, on Friday the 20. of this instant July [1683]: As also the Lord Russel, who was beheaded in Lincoln's InnFields on the 21. of the same Month, whose Fatal and deserved Punishments may be a Warning to all others to avoid the like Crimes.

TO THE TUNE OF, Digby's Fare-well; or, On the bank of a River, etc. [p. 327.]

330

You

A Terror for Traitors:

Ou Traytors of England, how dare you Conspire, Against such a Prince whose love we admire? And against his dear Brother, that Royal brave Sparke, Right heir to the Crown, sweet James Duke of York. But yet I do hope that they'l ne'r have their will, To touch our dear Princes, who ne'r thought them ill: O Russell, you plot[t]ed against a good King,

Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth [ring]. But Heavens will protect him, and still be his guide, And keep him from danger, and be on his side; And all that do plot against him or the Heir, I hope that their feet will be catcht in a snare. By this Conspiration your Ruine you've caught, And under a hatchet your head you have brought: O Russel! you plotted [against a good King,

Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth ring]. You might have liv'd manie a year in much Fame, And added much Honour unto your good Name; But now this a blot in your 'Scutchon will be, For being concerned with this gross Villany. But now your dear Parents in heart may lament, Without all dispute they've but little content.

To think that you plotted [against a good King, Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth ring]. Your Lady may grieve, and lament for her loss, To lose you for Treason it proves a great cross, But it was no more than what was your desert, No reason but that he should taste of the smart; But had you then been a good Subject indeed, You would not have suffer'd, you would have been freed : But Russel, you plotted [against a good King,

Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth ring].

Now let me but ask you a question or two,

What would you have had, or intended to do?
The Laws of this Nation ye would have thrown down,
Then ye would have aim'd at the Scepter and Crown;
But Heaven, I hope, will all Plotting disclose,
And the Laws of the Nation shall punish the Foes
Of our great Monarch, and gracious good King,
Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth [ring].

Russell's Treason Justly Punished.

When Persons have Honor and Pleasures great store,
Yet still they are having and grud [g]ing for more;
Their hearts are deceitful and puffed up with pride,
And Lucifer certainly stands by their side:

To things most unlawful he makes them conspire,
But he laughs at them all when they stick in the mire.
O Russel! you plotted [against a good King,

Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth ring.]
True Subjects of England are filled with fears,
And for their great Soveraign they shed many tears;
To think this no reason will Traitors convince,
But still they'le be Plotting against a good Prince:
Those that should have been a great help to the Land,
They sought for our ruine, we well understand.

But Russel, you plotted [against a good King,

Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth ring.]
There was Walcot and Rouse was both in the Plot,
And Hone I do reckon must not be forgot;

At Tyburn, for certain, each man took his turn,
And then in the fire their bowels did burn.1

ballad.]

331

[While few people pity, of all who stand nigh,] [Line omitted in A death so deserving none [them] will deny.

For sure they plotted against a good King,

Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth [ring].

Let this be a warning to Rich and to Poor,

To be true to their King, and to plot so no more;

And that our good King may have Plenty and Peace,
And the loyal Subjects may daily increase:

There never were People more happy than we,
If unto the Government all would agree.

Then hang up those Traitors who love not the King,
Whose Fame through all Nations in Europe doth [ring].

Finis.

[No printer's name. White-letter. One woodcut. passim. We supply conjecturally one lost line.

"Ring" misprinted "Reign," Date, after 21st July, 1683.]

1 The fire was blazing fiercely in the sight of these men, ready to have their entrails cast in it, and to heat the pitch with which their quarters were to be coated. The record of national brutality is hideous: not worse than the history of Alva's cruelties in the Netherlands, but scarcely better. See old cut on p. 319.

A New Song, sung at Winchester.

"Come hang up your Care, and lay by your Sorrow;
Drink on! he's a Sot that e'er thinks of to-morrow;
Good store of good Claret supplies ev'ry thing,
And the Man that is drunk is as great as a King.
Let none at misfortune or losses repine,

But take a full dose of the juice of the Vine;

Diseases and troubles are ne'er to be found

But in the puшep place where the Glass goes not round."
— The Miser, by Tom Shadwell, Act iii. 2, 1672.

THAT King Charles II. felt an increasing interest in Winchester

is shown by his preparations for building there; a new Palace being in progress during the last years of his life, and a large sum of money lying ready for such expenditure at the time of his death. A poem "On the King's House now building at Winchester," begins, "As soon as mild Augustus could asswage A bloody CivilWar's licentious rage," and pleads for his continued patronage:

To Winchester let Charles be ever kind,

The youngest labour of his fertile mind:

Here ancient kings the British Scepter sway'd,

And all kings since have always been obey'd
Let not the stately fabrick you decree

An immature abortive Palace be,

But may it grow the mistress of your heart,

And the full heir of Wren's stupendous art.

After describing the situation, the adjacent Cathedral and College (involving a tribute to William of Wykeham), the poem praises the fitness of Winchester for those sports in which the King delighted: A healthy Country opening to his view,

The chearful Pleasures of his eyes renew.

On neighbouring plains the Coursers wing'd with speed
Contend for Plate, the glorious Victor's meed:
Over the Course they rather fly than run,

In a wide circle like the radiant Sun.

Then fresh delights they for their Prince prepare,

And Hawks (the swift-wing'd Coursers of the Air,)

The trembling Bird with fatal haste pursue,

And seize the Quarry in their Master's view:

Till, like my Muse, tir'd with the Game they've found,
They stoop for ease, and pitch upon the ground.

That the following impudent and scurrilous ditty (amusing withal, as were most of Tom D'Urfey's "unbaptised rhymes,") was sung before his gracious Majesty, without check or rebuke, is a clear token that the systematic opposition of the London Whig aldermen had gone so far that the public lampooning of them in leisure hours at Winchester was considered to be a commendable act, agreeable to the King himself and to those whom he delighted to honour.