ÆLLA,

A TRAGYCAL ENTERLUDE, OR DISCOORSEYNGE

TRAGEDIE,

Wrotenn by Thomas Rowlete; platedd before Mastre Canynge, atte hys house nempte the Rodde Lodge alsoe before the Duke of Nor folck, Johan Howard.

This poem, with the Epistle, Letter, and Entroductionne, is printed from a folio MS. furnished by Mr. Catcott, in the beginning of which he has written, "Chatterton's transcript, 1769." The whole transcript is of Chatterton's hand-writing. EPISTLE TO MASTRE CANYNGE ON ÆLLA. 'Trs songe bie mynstrelles, thatte yn auntyent tym,

Whan Reasonn hylt herselfe in cloudes of nyghte, The preest delyvered alle the lege yn rhym; Lyche peyneted tyltynge speares to please the syght, [dere,

The whyche yn yttes felle use doe make moke Syke dyd theire auncyante lee deftlie delyghte the

care.

Perchaunce yn vyrtues gare rhym mote bec Butte efte nowe flyeth to the odher syde; [thenne, In hallie preeste apperes the ribaudes penne,

Inne lithie moncke apperes the barronnes pryde: But rhym wythe somme, as nedere widhout teethe, Make pleasaunce to the sense, botte maie do lyttel seathe.

Syr John, a knyghte, who hath a barne of lore, Kenns Latyn att fyrst syghte from Frenche or Greke,

Pyghtethe hys knowlachynge ten yeres or more, To rynge upon the Latynne worde to speke. Whoever speke the Englysch ys despysed,

The Englysch hym to please moste fyrste be latynized.

Vevyan, a moncke, a good requiem synges;
Can preache so wele, eche bynde hys meneynge
knowes;

Albeytte these gode guyfts awaie he flynges,
Beeynge as badde yn vearse as good yn prose.

Hee synges of seynctes who dyed for yer Godde,
Everych wynter nyghte afresche he sheddens theyr

blodde.

To maydens, huswyfes, and unlored dames,
Hee redes bys tales of merryment and woe.
Loughe loudlie dynneth from the dolte adrames ;*
He swelles on laudes of fooles, tho' kennes hem soe,
Sommetyme at tragedie theie laughe and synge,
At merrie yaped fage somme hard-drayned water
brynge.

Yette Vevyan ye ne foole, behynde hys lynes.
Geofroie makes vearse, as handycraftes theyr

ware;

[twynes, Wordes wythoute sense full groffyngelye he Cotteynge hys storie off as wythe a sheere;

Unauthorized. There is, however, the adjective adraming,

churlish.

Waytes monthes on nothynge, and his storie

donne, [begonne. Ne moe you from ytte kenn, than gyf you neere

Enowe of odbers; of mieselfe to write,

Requyrynge whatt I doe notte nowe possess,
To you I leave the taske; I kenne your myghte
Wyll make mie faultes, mie meynte of faultes, be
Alla wythe thys I sende, and hope that you [less.
Wylle from ytte cast awaic, whatte lynes maie be

untrue.

Playes made from hallie tales I holde unmeete Lette somme greate storie of a manne be songe; Whanne, as a manne, we Godde and Jesus treate, In mie pore mynde, we doe the Godhedde wronge Botte lette ne wordes, whyche droorie" mote ne heare,

Bee placed yn the same. Adieu untylle anere.

• Perhaps waystes.

THOMAS ROWLEIE.

+ Droorie. Strange perversion of words! droorie, in its ancient signification, stood for modesty.

• This is an error of Chatterton.

Schyr Jhone Webetown thar was slayne;

And quhen he dede wis, as ye her,

Thai faod intill hys coffer

A lettyr that hym send a lady
That he luffyt per drouery.

That said quhen he had yemyta yer
In wer, as a good bitehiller.
The awenturs castell off Dowglas
That to kep sa peralous was,
Than mycht he will ask a lady
Hyr amours and hyr drouery.

The Bruce. 1. 8. 488.

Mr. Pinkerton adds per drouery is not in a way of marriage: the term is old French.

LETTER.

TO THE DYGNE MASTRE CANYNGE.

STRAUNGE dome ytte ys, that, yn these daies of
Nete butte a bare recytalle can hav place; [oures,
Nowe shapelie poesie hast loste ytts powers,
And pynant hystorie ys onlie grace:

Heie pycke up wolsome weedes, ynstedde of flowers,

And famylies, ynstedde of wytte, theie trace; Nowe poesie canne meete wythe ne regrate, Whylste prose, and herehaughtrie, ryse yn estate.

Lette kynges, and rulers, whan heie gayne a throne, Shew whatt theyre grandsieres, and great grandsieres bore,

Emarschalled armes, yatte, ne before theyre owne,
Now raung'd wythe whatt yeir fadres han before;
Lette trades, and toune folck, lett syke thynges
Ne fyghte for sable yn a fielde of aure; [alone,
Seldomm, or never, are armes vyrtues mede,,
Shee nillynge to take myckle aie dothe hede.*

A man ascaunse uponn a piece maye looke,
And shake hys heddet to styrre hys rede aboute;
Quod he, gyf I askaunted oere thys booke,
Schulde fynde thereyn that trouthe ys left wyth-
Eke, gyf ynto a vew percase I tooke [oute;
The longe beade-rolle of al the wrytynge route,
Asserius, Ingolphus, Torgotte, Bedde,

Thorow hem al nete lyche ytte I coulde rede.

• Probably nede.

↑ Sidrophel in Hudibras.

Who having three times shook his head,

To stir his wit up, thus he said.

Pardon, yee graiebarbes, gyff I saie, onwise
Yee are to stycke so close and bysmarelie
To hystorie; you doe ytte tooe moche pryze,
Whyche amenused thoughtes of poesie; [alyse,"
Somme drybblette share you shoulde to yatte
Nott makynge everyche thynge bee hystorie;
Instedde of mountynge on a wynged horse,
You onn a rouncy dryve ynn dolefull course.

Canynge and I from common course dyssente;
Wee ryde the stede, botte yev to hym the reene;
Ne wylle betweene crased molterynge bookes be-
[sheene;
Botte soare on hyghe, and yn the sonne-bemes
And where wee kenn somme ishad floures be-

pente,

sprente, [clene; We take ytte, and from oulde rouste doe ytte Wee wylle ne cheynedd to one pasture bee, Botte sometymes soare 'bove trouthe of hystorie.

Saie, Canynge, whatt was vearse yn daies of yore ?
Fyne thoughtes, snd couplettes fetyvelie bewryen
Notte syke as doe annoie thys age so sore,
A keppened poyntelle restynge at eche lyne.
Vearse maie be goode, botte poesie wantes more,
An onlist lecturn, and a songe adynge;
Accordynge to the rule I have thys wroughte,
Gyff ytt please Canynge, I care notte a groate.

The thynge ytte moste bee yttes owne defense;
Som metre maie notte please a wommannes ear.
Canynge lookes notte for poesie, botte sense;
And dygne, and wordie thoughtes, ys all hys care.

• This word is loosely made from the Saxon verb alysan, to loosen, to set free.