Imagens das páginas

79. Even so through Brentford town, a town of mud,

A herd of bristly swine is prick'd along,

The filthy beasts, that never chew the cud, [song,
Still grunt, and squeak, and sing their troublous
And oft they plunge themselves the mire among;
But ay the ruthless driver goads them on,
And ay of barking dogs the bitter throng
Makes them renew their unmelodious moan;
Ne ever find they rest from their unresting tone.





Archimage, chief, or great- | Eftsoons, immediately, often,

est of magicians or en


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afterward. Eke, also.

Fays, fairies.

Gear, or Geer, furniture, equipage, dress.

Glaive, sword. (Fr)

Bale, sorrow, trouble, mis- Glee, joy, pleasure.

Benept, named.

Blazon, painting, displaying.

Breme, cold, raw.

Carol, to sing songs of joy. Caurus, the north-east wind.

Certes, certainly.

Han, have.

Hight, named, called; and sometimes it is used for is called. See Stanza vii. Idless, idleness.

Imp, child, or offspring; from the Saxon impun, to graft or plant.

Dan, a word prefixed to Kest, for cast.

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Lad, for led.

Lad, a piece of land, or meadow.

Libbard, leopard.

.Lig, to lie.

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Sicker, sure, surely.
Soot, sweet, or sweetly.
Sooth, true, or truth.
Stound, misfortune, pang.
Sweltry, sultry, consuming
with heat.

Swink, to labour.
Smackt, savoured.
Thrall, slave.

Transmen'd, transformed.
Vild, vile.

Unkempt (Lat. incomptus), unadorned.

Ween, to think, be of opinion.

Weet, to know, to weet, to


Whilom, ere-while, formerly.
Wight, man.

Wis, for wist, to know,
think, understand.
Wonne (a noun), dwelling.
Wroke, wreakt.

N. B. The letter Y is frequently placed in the beginning of a word by Spenser, to lenghthen it a syllable, and en at the end of a word, for the same reason, as withouten, casten, &c.

Yborn, born.

Yfere, together.

Yblent, or blent, blended, Ymolten, melted.


Yclad, clad.

Yeleped, called, named.

Yode, (preter, tense of yede), went.




The scene of the following stanzas is supposed to lie on the Thames, near Richmond.

IN yonder grave a Druid lies,

Where slowly winds the stealing wave!
The year's best sweet shall duteous rise
To deck its poet's sylvan grave!

In yon deep bed of whispering reeds
His airy harp shall now be laid,
That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds
May love through life the soothing shade.

Then maids and youths shall linger here,
And while its sounds at distance swell,
Thall sadly seem, in pity's ear,

To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell.

Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore,

When Thames in summer wreaths is drest,

And oft suspend the dashing oar,

To bid his gentle spirit rest!

And oft as ease and health retire,
To breezy lawn, or forest deep,
The friend shall view yon whitening spire,
And 'mid the varied landscape weep.

But Thou! who ownest that earthy bed,
Ah! what will every dirge avail?
Our tears, which love and pity shed,

That mourn beneath the gliding sail!

Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye
Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near?
With him, sweet bard, may fancy die,
And joy desert the blooming year!

But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide
No sedge-crowned sisters now attend,
Now waft me from the green hill's side,
Whose cold turf hides the buried friend!

And see the fairy valleys fade;

Dun night has veiled the solemn view!
Yet once again, dear parted shade,
Meek nature's child, again adieu !

The genial meads assigned to bless
Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom;
Their hinds, and shepherd-girls, shall dress,
With simple hands, thy rural tomb.

Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clay,
Shall melt the musing Briton's eyes!
O vales, and wild woods, shall he say,
In yonder grave your Druid lies!


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