The Poetical Works of John Skelton (Vol. 1&2). John Skelton
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A poem called Philargyrie of greate Britayne, 1551, printed (and no doubt written) by Robert Crowly, has been frequently mentioned as a “Skeltonic” composition, but improperly, as the following lines will shew;
“Geue eare awhyle,
And marke my style,
You that hath wyt in store;
For wyth wordes bare
I wyll declare
Thyngs done long tyme before.
Sometyme certayne
Into Britayne,
A lande full of plentie,
A gyaunte greate
Came to seke meate,
Whose name was Philargyrie,” &c.
“See also,” says Warton (Hist. of E. P. ii. 358, note, ed. 4to), “a doggrel piece of this kind, in imitation of Skelton, introduced into Browne’s Sheperd’s Pipe,”—a mistake; for the poem of Hoccleve (inserted in Eglogue i.), to which Warton evidently alludes, is neither doggrel nor in Skelton’s manner.
POETICAL WORKS
OF
JOHN SKELTON.
OF THE DEATH[155] OF THE NOBLE PRINCE, KYNGE EDWARDE THE FORTH, PER SKELTONIDEM LAUREATUM.
Miseremini mei, ye that be my frendis!
This world[156] hath formed me downe to fall:
How may[157] I endure, when that eueri thyng endis?
What creature is borne to be eternall?
Now there[158] is no more but pray for me all:
Thus say I Edward, that late was youre kynge,
And twenty two[159] yeres ruled this imperyall,
Some vnto pleasure, and some to no lykynge:
Mercy I aske of my mysdoynge;
What auayleth it,[160] frendes, to be my foo, 10
Sith I can not resyst, nor amend your complaining?
Quia, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!
I slepe now in molde, as it is naturall
That[161] erth vnto erth hath his reuerture:
What ordeyned God to be terestryall,
Without recours to the erth[162] of nature?
Who to lyue euer may himselfe assure?[163]
What is it[164] to trust on mutabilyte,
Sith that in this world nothing may indure?
For now am I gone, that late was in prosperyte: 20
To presume thervppon, it is but a vanyte,
Not certayne, but as a cheryfayre[165] full of wo:
Reygned not I of late in greate felycite?
Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!
Where was in my lyfe such one as I,
Whyle lady Fortune with me had continuaunce?
Graunted not she me to haue victory,
In England to rayne, and to contribute Fraunce?
She toke me by the hand and led me a daunce,
And with her sugred lyppes on me she smyled; 30
But, what for her dissembled countenaunce,
I coud not beware tyl I was begyled:
Now from this world she hath me excyled,
When I was lothyst hens for to go,
And I am in age but, as who sayth, a chylde,
Et, ecce, nunc in pulvere dormio!
I se wyll,[166] they leve that doble my ȝeris:
This[167] dealid this world with me as it lyst,[168]
And