I and my men, the Cockneies of the waves,
Will profitte by youre lessons and bee wise;
Make you give back the harvest of youre lies;
From deep fraught barques I'le take the mysers soul,
Make all the wealthe of every [man] my prize,

And cheating Londons pryde to Dygner Bristowe

Thou saiest manne that thou wouldst goe with mee,
And bare a parte in all mie mennes empryze,
Thinke well upon the daungers of the sea

And ghess if that wyll no thee recradize,
When throwghe the skies the levyn-brondie flies,
And levyns sparkel in the whited oundes
Seemynge to ryse at lepestones to the skies,

And no contented bee with its sette bounds.
Then rolles the barque and tosses too and fro,

Sike drearie scenes as thys will caste thie bloude I

trowe.

Thynke, when wyth bloudie axes in our handes
We are to fyghte for goulde and sylver to,
On neighbours myndbruch lyfe no one then standes,
But all his ayme and end is to death's doo.

ROBYNNE.

I've thowghte on alle and am resolved to goe, Fortune, no more I'll bee thie taunted slave, Once I was greete, nowe plans'd in wante and woe, I'll goo and bee a pick-hatch of the wave;

Goodes I have none, and lyfe I do disdayne,

I'll be a victoar, or I'll break mie gallynge chayne, I'll washe mie handes in bloude and dele in dethe, Our shippe shall blowe alonge with windes of dyinge breth.

LAMINGSTONE.

I like thy courage, and I'll tell thy doome,

Thou wilt unyere a brave captaine bee,
Goe thou to Brystowe, staie untylle wee come

For there we shall happlie have neede of thee,
And for a thight and shapelie warehouse see

Whareen to put the chattels we shall brynge, And know if there two Cocknie knaves may bee Phillpot and Walworth, soe reporte doth synge. If soe I'll trounce the gouler bie mie faie, There's monies maun for thee-Ralph! take the things awaie

Which we from Watchetts towne have taken nowe, Yn the barque's bottom see thee same you stowe.

RALPH.

Mastre of myne, I go as you do saie.

ROBYNNE.

And I to Brystowe town will haste awaie,*

* [The remainder of this poem, from the line

'And cheating London's pryde to Dygner Bristowe rolle,'

is now for the first time included in a collected edition of Chatterton's Works. It is taken from Mr. Smith's MS., and was never printed till 1838. (See appendix to Rowley Poems.)-ED.]

Songe

Of Sepncte Baldywynne.*

Whann Norrurs end hys menne of myghte,
Uponne thys brydge darde all to fyghte,
Forslagenn manie warriours laie,

And Dacyanns well nie wonne the daie.
Whanne doughty Baldwinus arose,
And scatterd deathe amonge hys foes,
Fromme out the brydge the purlinge bloode
Embolled hie the runnynge floude.

Dethe dydd uponne hys anlace hange,
And all hys arms were gutte de sangue.3
His doughtinesse wrought thilk dismaye, }
The foreign warriors ranne awaie,
Erle Baldwynus regardedd well,
How manie menn forslaggen fell;

To Heaven lyft oppe hys holie eye,
And thanked Godd for victorye;

Thenne threw hys anlance ynn the tyde,
Lyvdd ynn a cell, and hermytte died.

According to Chatterton, this and the following poem were sung

when the Bridge at Bristol was completed in 1247.

1 King of Norway.

2 Swelled.

3 Drops of blood; an heraldic allusion, suitable to the genius of that age.-CHATTERTON.

Songe

Of Seynete Warburghe.

I.

Whanne Kynge Kynghill' ynn hys honde
Helde the sceptre of thys londe,
Sheenynge starre of Chrystes lyghte,
The merkie mysts of pagann nyghte
Gan to scatter farr and wyde :
Thanne Seyncte Warburghe hee arose,
Doffed hys honnores and fyne clothes;
Preechynge hys Lorde Jesus name,
Toe the lande of West Sexx came,

Whare blaeke' Severn rolls hys tyde.

II.

Stronge ynn faithfullness, he trodde
Overr the waterrs lyke a Godde,
Till he gaynde the distaunt hecke,*
Ynn whose bankes hys staffe dydd steck,
Wytnesse to the myrracle;

Thenne he preechedd nyghte and daie,
And set manee ynn ryghte waie.

Thys goode staffe great wonders wroughte,
Moe than gueste bie mortalle thoughte,

Orr thann mortall tonge can tell.

1 King Coenwulf.

2 Dark.

3 Yellow.

4 Height.

III.

Thenn the foulke a brydge dydd make
Overr the streme untoe the hecke,
All of wode eke longe and wyde,
Pryde and glorie of the tyde;

Whych ynn tyme dydd falle awaie :
Then Erle Leof' he bespedde"
Thys grete ryverr fromme hys bedde,
Round hys castle for to runne,
T'was in trothe ann ancyante onne,

But warre and tyme wyll all decaie.

5

IV.

Now agayne, wythe bremie3 force,
Severn ynn hys aynciant course
Rolls hys rappyd streeme alonge,
With a sable' swifte and stronge,
Moreying manie ann okie wood:
Wee the menne of Brystowe towne
Have yreerd thys brydge of stone,
Wyshynge echone that ytt maie laste
Till the date of daies be past,

Standynge where the other stoode.

1 Earl Leofwin.

3 Furious, violent.

2 Dispatched, turned away. 4 Sand.

5 Rooting up, so explained in the Glossary to Robert Gloucester.'Mored', i.e. digged, grubbed. The roots of trees are still called 'mores' in Devonshire.-CHATTERTON.