"dittie, are now framed in all parts for voyces to sing "the same. If thou desire songs of small compasse, and "fit for the reach of most voyces, here are most in num"ber of that sort. Whatsoever pains I have taken herein, "I shall think to be well employed if the same be well ac

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cepted, musicke thereby the better loved, and the more "exercised. In the expressing of these songs either by voyces or instruments, if there happen to be any jar or "dissonance, blame not the printer, who I do assure thee "through his great pains and diligence, doth here deliver "to thee a perfect and true coppie. If in the composition "of these songs there be any fault by me committed, I "desire the skilful, either with curtesie to let the same be

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concealed, or in friendlie sort to be thereof admonished; "and at the next impression he shall find the error re"formed; remembering alwaies, that it is more easie to "find a fault than to amend it. If thou find anything here "worthy of liking and commendation, give praise unto "God, from whom as from a most pure and plentiful "fountain, all good gifts of science do flow; whose name "be glorified for ever.

"The most assured friend to all

that love or learn musicke,

"WILLIAM BYRD."

I.

My mind to me a kingdom is,

Such perfect joy therein I find;

That it excels all other bliss

Which God or Nature hath assign'd.
Tho' much I want that most would have,

Yet still my mind forbears to crave.

My wealth is health, and perfect ease;
A conscience clear my chief defence:
I never seek by bribes to please,

Nor by desert to give offence.
Thus do I live; thus will I die;
Would all did so, as well as I.

II.

I joy me not in earthly bliss;

I force* not Croesus' wealth a straw;
For care, I know not what it is;

I fear not Fortune's fatal law.
My mind is such as may not move
For beauty bright, nor force of love.

The court and cart I like nor loath,

Extremes are counted worst of all:
The golden mean between them both
Doth surest sit, and fears no fall.
This is my choice; for why? I find
No wealth is like a quiet mind.

This and the foregoing number, of each of which I have only given two stanzas, are printed in full as one poem by Dr. Percy and Ritson, and attributed (on the authority of an ancient Manuscript in the Bodleian Library,) to Sir Edward Dyer, a friend of Sir Philip Sydney. The author seems to be of opinion with Solomon, that "Better is an “handful with quietness, than both hands full, with travail "and vexation of spirit."-Eccles. ii. 6.

* Envy.

III.

What pleasures have great princes
More dainty to their choice,
Than herdmen wild, who careless
In quiet life rejoice;

And fickle fortune scorning,

Sing sweet in summer morning?

Their dealings plain and rightful
Are void of all deceit ;

They never know how spiteful

It is to kneel, and wait

On favorites presumptuous,

Whose pride is vain and sumptuous.

All day their flocks each tendeth,
All night they take their rest,
More quiet than he who sendeth
His ships unto the west;

Where gold and pearl are plenty,
But getting very dainty.

For lawyers and their pleading,

They 'steem it not a straw;
They think that honest meaning
Is of itself a law.

Where conscience judgeth plainly
They spend no money vainly.

O happy! who thus liveth,

Not caring much for gold;

With clothing which sufficeth
To keep him from the cold.

Tho' poor and plain his diet,
Yet merry it is and quiet.

Reprinted in England's Helicon A.D. 1600,
Author's name not prefixed.

In a similar strain singeth W. Warner:

"Well wot I, sooth they say, who say—
"More quiet nights and days

"The shepherd sleeps, and wakes, than he
"Whose cattle he doth

graze."

England's Parnassus, 1600.

It is a perfect miracle how this world goes on, since none but Shepherds and Herdmen wild appear entitled to happiness in it.

On

"O fortunatos nimium sua si bona nôrint!" They alone escape the general malediction of Burton in his Anatomy of Melancholy. "As for particular profes"sions (says he) there is no content or security in any. "what course will you pitch, how resolve? To be a Divine? "'tis contemptible in the world's esteem. To be a Lawyer? " 'tis to be a wrangler. To be a Physician? 'tis to be loathed. "A Philosopher? a madman. An Alchymist? a beggar. "A Poet? an hungry Jack. A Musician? a player. A "Schoolmaster? a drudge. An Husbandman? an emmet. "A Merchant? his gains are uncertain. A Mechanician? "base. A Chirurgeon? fulsome. A Tradesman? a liar. "A Taylor? a thief. A Serving-man? a slave. A Soldier? a butcher. A Smith or Metal-man? the pot is never from "his nose."

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What a prospect for a young man entering upon life!

Breeds flames in ice, and frost in fire:

Ye scorn to see me weep so sore;
Hey ho! Chil love no more.

Love ye who list; I force him not;

Sith God it wot,

The more I wail,

The less my sighs and tears prevail.
What shall I do, but say therefore

Hey ho! Chil love no more.

This is also reprinted in England's Helicon, A.D. 1600, without a name. For a specimen of a poem entirely in the Somersetshire dialect, see No. 296.

* I'll love.-Somersetshire dialect.

† Mad, silly.