THE LONDON LYCKPENNY. BY JOHN LYDGATE. [JOHN LYDGATE was born about the year 1375. He became a monk of Bury, and taught the art of versification in his monastery, a proof that poetry was then highly appreciated. He had improved his mind by travelling, and was the author of a great number of pieces. He was a humorous and versatile writer, and is considered one of those to whom the improvement of our language is due. Lydgate was in great repute for his skill and taste in arranging mummings and pageants. He died about the year 1461.] WITHIN the hall, neither rich, nor yet poor Would do for me ought, although I should die : Which seeing, I gat me out of the door, Where Flemings began on me for to cry, "Master, what will you copen or buy? Then to Westminster gate I presently went, When the sun was at high prime : Cooks to me they took good intent, And proffered me bread, with ale, and wine Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine; A fair cloth they gan for to spread, But, wanting money, I might not be sped. THE LONDON LYCKPENNY. 43 Then unto London I did me hie, Of all the land it beareth the price; "Hot peascods!" one began to cry, "Strawberry ripe, and cherries in the rise!" One bade me come near and buy some spice; Pepper, and saffron they gan me beed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed. Then to the Cheap I gan me drawn, Where much people I saw for to stand; One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn, Another he taketh me by the hand, "Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land!" I never was used to such things, indeed; And, wanting money, I might not speed. Then went I forth by London Stone, Drapers much cloth me offered anon; Then comes me one cried "hot sheep's feet;" One cried mackerel, rushes green, another gan greet, One bade me buy a hood to cover my head ; But, for want of money, I might not be sped. Then I hied me unto East-Cheap, One cries ribs of beef, and many a pie; Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy; Yea by cock! nay by cock! some began cry; Some sung of Jenkin and Julian for their meed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed. Then into Cornhill anon I yode, Where was much stolen gear among; I saw where hung mine owne hood, That I had lost among the throng; To buy mine own hood I thought it wrong: I knew it well, as I did my creed; But, for lack of money, I could not speed. The taverner took me by the sleeve, "Sir," saith he, "will you our wine assay?" Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede, THE MERLE AND NIGHTINGALE. BY WILLIAM DUNBAR. [WILLIAM DUNBAR was born at Saltour, in East Lothian, probably in the year 1460. After having been educated at St. Andrews, he became a Franciscan Friar. He travelled for some years as an itinerant preacher; subsisting, in accordance with the custom of his order, on alms. But he deplored the constant falsehood, deceit, and flattery, of this mode of life, and at length abandoned it. He was afterwards employed on several embassies; the servility then required in a court, however, filled him with pain. He died about the year 1520; but neither the date nor circumstances of his death are known. His works remained in manuscript until the beginning of the last century; nor were they rescued from obscurity until their language had become so obsolete that many of their beauties could no longer be appreciated.] IN May, as that Aurora did upspring, With crystal een chasing the cluddes sable, I heard a Merle with merry notis sing A sang of love, with voice right comfortable, Again' the orient beamis, amiable, Upon a blissful branch of laurel green; This was her sentence, sweet and delectable, A lusty life in Lovis service been. Under this branch ran down a river bright, Of balmy liquor, crystalline of hue, Again' the heavenly azure skyis light, With notis glad, and glorious harmony, |