But clowdes of joyes untried

Do cloake afpiring mindes;
Which turn to raine of late repent,

By courfe of changed windes.

The toppe of hope fuppofed

The roote of ruthe will be;

And fruteleffe all their graffed guiles,
As fhortly all fhall fee.

Then dazeld eyes with pride,

Which great ambition blindes,
Shal be unfeeld by worthy wights,
Whofe forefight falfhood finds.

The daughter of debate *,

That difcord ay doth fowe,

Shal reape no gaine where former rule
Hath taught ftil peace to growe.

No forreine bannisht wight

Shall ancre in this port;

Our realme it brookes no ftrangers force,

Let them elsewhere refort.

Our rufty sworde with reft

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Shall firft his edge employ,

To poll the toppes, that feeke fuch change,

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+++ I cannot help fubjoining to the above fonnet another diftich of Elizabeth's preferved by Puttenham (p. 197.) which (Jays be) our foveraigne lady wrote in defiance of fortune."

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Never thinke you, Fortune can beare the sway,
Where Vertue's force can cause her to obay.

The flighteft effufion of fuch a mind deferves attention.

XVI.

KING OF SCOTS AND ANDREW BROWNE.

This ballad is a proof of the little intercourfe that fubfifted between the Scots and English, before the acceffion of James I. to the crown of England. The tale which is here so circumftantially related does not appear to have had the least foundation in hiftory, but was probably built upon some confused bearfay report of the tumults in Scotland during the minority of that prince, and of the confpiracies formed by different factions to get poffeffion of his perfon. It should feem from ver. 102. to have been written during the regency, or at least before the death, of the earl of Morton, who was condemned and executed June 2. 1581; when James was in his 15th year. The original copy (preferved in the archives of the Antiquarian Society London) is intitled, "A nerv Ballad, declaring the great treafen confpired against the young king of *Scots, and how one Andrew Browne an English-man, "which was the king's chamberlaine, prevented the fame, "To the tune of Milfield, or els to Green-fleeves." At the end is fubjoined the name of the author W. ELDERTON.

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"Imprinted at London for Yarathe James, dwelling in Newgate Market, over against Ch. Church," in black letter, folio.

This ELDERTON, who had been originally an attorney in the fheriffs courts of London, and afterwards (if we may believe Oldys) a comedian, was a facetious fuddling companion, whofe tippling and rhymes rendered him famous among bis contemporaries. He was author of many popular fongs and ballads; and probably other pieces in thefe volumes, befides the following, are of his compofing. He is believed to have fallen a victim to his bottle before the year 1592. His epitaph has been recorded by Camden, and tranflated by Oldys.

Hic fitus eft fitiens, atque ebrius Eldertonus,

Quid dico hic fitus eft? hic potius fitis eft.

Dead drunk here Elderton doth lie;
Dead as he is, he still is dry:

So of him it may well be faid,

Here be, but not his thirft, is laid.

See Stow's Lond. [Guild-hall.]-Biogr. Brit. [DRAYTON, by Oldys, Note B.] Ath. Ox.-Camden's Remains.-Tha Exale-tation of Ale, among Beaumont's Poems, 8vo. 1653.

UT alas! what a griefe is this

That princes fubjects cannot be true,

But ftill the devill hath fome of his,
Will play their parts whatsoever enfue;
Forgetting what a grievous thing
it is to offend the anointed king?

Alas for woe, why fhould it be fo,
This makes a forrowful heigh ho,

5

In Scotland is a bonnie kinge,

As

proper a youth as neede to be, Well given to every happy thing,

That can be in a kinge to fee:
Yet that unluckie country ftill,

Hath people given to craftie will.
Alas for woe, &c.

On Whitfun eve it fo befell,

A poffet was made to give the king, Whereof his ladie nurfe hard tell,

And that it was a poyfoned thing: She cryed, and called piteouflie; Now help, or els the king fhall die! Alas for woe, &c.

One Browne, that was an English man,
And hard the ladies piteous crye,

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6

Out with his fword, and beftir'd him than,
Out of the doores in hafte to flie;

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But all the doores were made so fast,

Out of a window he got at last.

Alas for woe, &c.

He met the bishop coming fast,

30

Having the poffet in his hande :

The fight of Browne made him aghast,
Who bad him ftoutly ftaie and stand.

With him were two that ranne away,
For feare that Browne would make a fray.
Alas for woe, &c.

Bishop, quoth Browne, what haft thou there?
Nothing at all, my friend, fayde he;
But a poffet to make the king good cheere.
Is it fo? fayd Browne, that will I fee,
First I will have thyself begin,
Before thou go any further in;

Be it weale or woe, it fhall be fo,
This makes a forrowful heigh ho.

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The bishop fayde, Browne I doo know,

Thou art a young man poore and bare;

Livings on thee I will beftowe:

Let me go on, take thou no care.

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No, no, quoth Browne, I will not be
A traitour for all Chriftiantie:

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Happe well or woe, it fhall be fo,
Drink now with a forrowfull, &c.

The bishop dranke, and by and by
His belly burft and he fell downe :

A juft rewarde for his traitery.

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This was a poffet indeed, quoth Brown!

He ferched the bishop, and found the keyes,

To come to the kinge when he did please.

Alas for woe, &c.

VOL. II.

P

As