LEGENDARY POEM.

From MS. Bibl. Publ. Cantab. Ff. ii, 38, of the Fifteenth Century. The story is laid at Falmouth in Cornwall.

MAN, for myschefe thou the amende,

And to my talkyng thou take good hede:
Fro synnes vij thou the defende,

The leste of alle ys for to drede ;
For of the leste y wylle yow speke,
And for soule-hele y wylle yow teche,
Be-war, man, God wylle hym wreke

On hym that ys cawse of spouse-breke.
The fyrste sacrament that ever God made,
That was wedlokk, in gode faye,
Leve thou hyt, withowten drede,

For laste hyt schalle to domesday;
For hys bonde we may not breke,

Hys owne worde and we wylle holde,
Tyl dethe come, that alle schalle wreke,
And us alle in cley to folde.

The grettyst kyng of alle thys worlde

Be some cawse hys crown may forgon,

I take wytnesse of kyng Rychard,

Of kynge Saber, and of kyng Absalon ;

And kyng Davyd that made the Sawter boke,
For synne he dud with Bersabé

Cryste fro hym hys crowne toke,
Thus holy wrytt tellyth mee.

The grettyst clerke that ever thou seyst
To take hym undur hevyn cope,
He may never take ordur of preyst,
But he have lycence of the Pope;
And he be geton in avowtré,

Or ellys a bastard and he be borne,
Thys cawse y telle wele for the,

The ordur of preste he hath lorne.
And the begger at the townes 3ynde,
To hym wedlokk ys as free
As to the ryallest kyng of kynde,
For alle ys but oon dygnyté.
Man yf thou wyste what hyt were
To take another then thy wyfe,
Thou woldest rather suffer here

To be quykk slayne with a knyfe;
For yf thou take another mannys wyfe,
A wrong heyre thou muste nedys gete,
And thus thou bryngyst iij. soules in stryfe
Yn helle fyre to lye and hete;

But wrecchys thynken in ther herte,

That fele themselfe gylty in thys case,

With schryfte of mouthe and
penaunce smerte
They wene ther blys for to un-brase;
But and they dye a soden dethe
Wythowten schryfte or penance,
To helle they gone withowten lees,
For they can chese non other chaunce.
A gode ensaumple y wylle yow telle,
To my tale yf ye take hede,
In Felamowth thys case befelle
xxx" wynter sythe the dethe.

Ther dwellyd ij bredurne in a towne,

Be oon fadur and modur geton and borne, Squyers they were of grete renown, As the story tellyth me beforne; The elder brodur had a wyfe,

The fayrest woman in alle thys londe, And 3yt he usyd a cursyd lyfe,

And broght hys soule in byttyr bonde. He roghte not what woman he toke,

So lytylle he sett by hys spouse-hede, Tylle the devylle caghte hym in hys croke, And with grete myschefe merkyd hys mede. These ij. bredurne upon a day

Wyth enemys were slayn in fyghte;
The elder to helle toke the way,

The yonger to paradyse bryghte.
And thys was knowen in sothenesse,
Herkenyth, syrs, what y wylle say;
Taketh gode hede, bothe more and lesse,
For Goddys love bereth thys tale away.
The elder brodur had a sone to clerke,
Wele of xv. wyntur of age,

He was wyse and holy in werke,

To hym schulde falle the herytage;

For hys fadur he made grete mone,

As fallyth a gode chylde ever of kynde,

Every ny3t to hys fadurs grave wolde he gon,
To have hys soule in specyalle mynde.
Thus he prayed bothe day and nyghte
To God and to hys moder dere,

Of hys fadur to have a syghte,

To wyt in what place that he were.
The chylde that was so nobulle and wyse
Stode at hys fadurs grave at eve,
There com oon in an whyte surplyse,
And prevely toke hym be the sleve:-
"Come on, chylde, and go wyth me,
God hath herde thy prayere;
Chylde, thy fadur thou schalt see,
Where he brennyth in helle fyre."

Oure Lady Mary or some goode frende ?" Sone, alle the seyntys that ben in hevyn, Nor alle the aungels under the Trynyte, Oon heere-brede owt of thys peyne

They have no power to lyste mee.
Sone, yf every grasse were a preste
That growyth upon Goddys grounde,
Of thys penaunce that thou me seyst
Can nevyr make me unbounde.

Sone, thou schalt be a preste, y wot hyt wele,
Oonys or thys day vij. yere,

At masse, at matens, mete nor mele,
Thou take me nevyr in thy preyere ;
Loke, sone, thou do as y say the,
Therfore y warne the wele before,
For evyr the lenger thou preyest for me,
My peynys schalle be more and more.'
"Farewelle," he seyde, "my dere sone,
The fadur of hevyn beteche y the,
And warn every man where so thou come
Of wedlok brekyng war to bee."
The aungelle began the chylde to lede
Soone owt of that wrecchyd wone,

Into a foreste was feyre in brede,
The sonne was up and brizt hyt schon ;

He ledd hym to a feyre herbere,

The 3atys were of clene crystalle,

To hys syghte were passyng feyre,
And as bryghte as any beralle.
The wallys semyd of golde bryghte,
With dorys and with towrys stronge,
They herde upon the 3atys on hyghte
Mynstralsy and aungels songe,
The pellycan and the popyngay,
The tymor and the turtulle trewe,
An hundurd thousand upon hye,
The nyghtyngale with notys newe.
On a greene hylle he sawe a tree,
The savyr of hyt was strong and store,
Pale hyt was and wanne of blee,

Loste hyt had bothe frute and flowre.
A rewfulle syghte that chylde can see,
And of that syghte he had grete drede,—
"A! dere lady, how may thys bee,

The blode of thys tree bledyth so rede?"
The aungelle seyde, "thys ys the tree
That God Adam the frute forbedd,
And therefore drevyn owt was hee,
And in the erthe hys lyfe he ledd.

For in the same place there thou seyst hyt blede,
Grewe the appulle that Adam bett,

And that was thorow Evys rede,

And the devylle of helle, wele y wott. Whan any synfulle comyth hereynne,

As thou seyst now here, chylde, with me,
For vengeauns of that cursyd synne,

The blode wylle renne out of thys tree."
He ledd hym forthe upon the playne,
He was war of a penakulle pyghte,
Soche oon had he nevyr sayne,

Of clothys of golde burnyschyd bry3t;
Therundur sate creature

As bryghte as any sonne beme,

And aungels dyd hym gret honowre;

"Lo! chylde," he seyde, "thys ys thyn eme!

Thy fadur brodur thou may see

In hevyn blys withowten ende;

So myghte thy fadur have bee,

And he to wedlok had ben kynde. But therfore he hathe getyn hym helle, Endeles to be in that depe dongeon, There evyr more for to dwelle,

For fro that place ys no redempcion." Man, for myschefe thou the amende,

And thou may sytt alle safe fro care; Fro dedely synne thou the defende,

And streghte to blys thy soule shalle fare!

THE

RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW.

ART. I.-Brayton's Polyolbion.

Poly-olbion; or, a Chorographicall Description of Tracts, Rivers, Mountaines, Forests, and other Parts of this renowned Isle of Great Britaine, with intermixture of the most Remarquable Stories, Antiquities, Wonders, Rarityes, Pleasures, and Commodities of the same: Digested in a Poem by Michael Drayton, Esq. With a Table added, for direction to those occurrences of Story and Antiquitie whereunto the Course of the Volume easily leades not. London: Printed by H. L. for Mathew Lownes, I. Browne, I. Helme, and I. Busbie, 1613. Folio.

THE Polyolbion is decidedly the poem by which the name of Michael

Drayton is best known, for it contains certain attractions of a durable nature which are not contained in most of his other writings; yet few indeed are there at the present day who have read Drayton's Polyolbion. Drayton is, indeed, one of those writers who, estimated beyond his merits in his own time, and afterwards enjoying a reputation rather in consequence of the subjects on which he wrote than of the excellence of his verse, has since sunk in public estimation so much as to be nearly forgotten, except by antiquaries and bibliographers. The Polyolbion seems to have been the work on which he prided himself most, and on which he laboured most, and whatever poetry there may have been in it, it displays no small amount of erudition, and it had the fortune to be illustrated with notes by the learned John Selden. It is accompanied moreover with a series of poetical maps, which are as singular in their construction as the poem itself.

John Leland had, nearly three quarters of a century before, given an impulse to research into the history and antiquities of our island, the taste for which had been increasing ever since, and had become fashionable at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Lambarde had, a few years before, published the first county history, and Carew had followed with his Survey of Cornwall; and Camden was publishing his general description of Britain. Numerous books on kindred subjects had made their appearance. Before the close of the sixteenth century, Warner attempted a poetical history of the island under the title of Albion's England. Whether this

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