In days of old, when Wesley’s pow… Gathered new strength by every hou… Apostate Will, just sunk in trade… Resolved his bargain should be mad… Then strait to Wesley he repairs,

The night was cold, the wind was h… And stars bespangled all the sky; Churchwarden Joe had laid him dow… And slept secure on bed of down; But still the pleasing hope of gai…

ONNE Ruddeborne bank twa pynyng… Theire teares faste dryppeynge to… Echone bementynge for her absente… Who atte Seyncte Albonns shouke t… The nottebrowne Elinoure to Juga…

This is the last Will and Testament of me, Thomas Chatterton, of the city of Bristol; being sound in body, or it is the fault of my last surgeon: the soundness of my mind, the coroner a...

ANENT a brooklette as I laie re… Listeynge to heare the water glyde… Myndeynge how thorowe the grene me… Awhilst the cavys respons’d yts mo… At dystaunt rysyng Avonne to he s…

To JOHNE LADGATE. WELL thanne, goode Johne, sythe… Thatt thou & I a bowtynge mat… Lette ytt ne breakynge of oulde fr… Thys ys the onelie all-a-boone I…

FYRSTE MYNSTRELLE... The boddynge flourettes bloshes at… The mees be sprenged wyth the yell… Ynn daiseyd mantels ys the mountay… The nesh yonge coweslepe bendethe…

Eclogue the First. Whanne Englonde, smeethynge from… From her galled necke dyd twytte t… Kennynge her legeful sonnes falle… (Myghtie theie fell, ’twas Honour…

Mie boolie entes, adiewe: ne more… Of guilden merke shalle mete mie j… Ne moe the sylver noble sheenynge… Shalle fylle mie hande wythe weigh… Ne moe, ne moe, alas, I calle you…

Wouldst thou kenn Nature in her b… Goe, serche the logges and bordels… Gyfe theye have anie, itte ys roug… Inne hem you see the blakied forme… Haveth your mind a lycheynge of a…

SCENE I. AT BRYSTOWE. ÆLLA AND SERVITOURES. AELLA. TYS nowe fulle morne; I thoughte…

Says Tom to Jack, ’tis very odd, These representatives of God, In color, way of life and evil, Should be so very like the devil. Jack, understand, was one of those…

Sharp was the frost, the wind was… And sparkling stars bedeckt the sk… Sly Dick in arts of cunning skill… Whose rapine all his pockets fill’… Had laid him down to take his rest

Young Colin was as stout a boy As ever gave a maiden joy; But long in vain he told his tale To black-eyed Biddy of the Dale. Ah why, the whining shepherd cried…

Behold! just coming from above, The judge, with majesty and love! The sky divides, and rolls away, T’admit him through the realms of… The sun, astonished, hides its fac…