In thy large recompence, and fhalt be good Thus fang the uncouth fwain to th'oaks and rills, THE BREWER'S COACHMAN, [ONEST William, an eafy and good-natur'd fellow, His coatch was kept clean, and no mothers or nurses They're foakers, like me, whom you load with reproaches, Vol. IV. 14. E THE THE MYNSTRELLES SONGE IN ELLA, A TRAGYCAL ENTERLUDE. By THOMAS CHATTERTON. O' ! Synge untoe my roundelaie, O droppe the brynie teare wythe mee, Daunce ne moe atte hallie daie, Lycke a reynynge * ryver bee ; Mie love ys dedde, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree. Black hys cryne + as the wyntere nyght, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, *Running. Hair. ‡ Complexion. Swote Swote hys tongue as the throftles note, O hee lys bie the wyllowe tree: Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Harke! the ravenne flappes hys wynge, Harke! the dethe-owle loude dothe fynge, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree. See the whyte moone fheenes onne hie ; Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree. Heere, upon mie true loves grave, Al the celnefs of a myade. Mie Mie love ys dedde, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree. Wy the mie hondes I'll dent the brieres Gonne to hy's deathe-bedde. Al under the wyllowe tree. Comme, wythe acorne-coppe and thorne, Gonne tohys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree. Water wytches, crownede wythe reytes*, I die; I comme; mie true love waytes, *Water-flags. ODE ODE TO THE GENIUS OF SHAKESPEARE. By Mr. OGILVIE. I. 1. R APT from the glance of mortal eye; Say, burft thy Genius to the world of light? Seeks it yon ftar-befpangled sky? Or fkims its fields with rapid flight? Or, mib yon plains where Fancy flrays, Courts it the balmy breathing gale? Droops o'er the green-embroider'd stream; Or where young Zephyr flirs the ruling sprays, O'er yon bleak defart's unfrequented round Sits on yon hoary tow'r with ivy crown'd, Or thrills the warbling note in thy mellifluous fong? I. 2. Oft while on earth 'twas thine to rove Or haunt meek Quiet's fimple dome |