The bridge is drawn, the gate is barr'd,

My father he has the keys, fir. But I have for my love prepar'd A shorter way and easier.

Over the moate I've laid a plank

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Full feventeen feet in measure : Then ftep a-crofs to the other bank,

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And there we'll take our pleasure.

These words fhe had no fooner fpoke,
But ftrait he came tripping over :
The plank was faw'd, it fnapping broke ;
And fous'd the unhappy lover.

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XVI. WHY

XVI.

WHY SO PALE?

From Sir John Suckling's poems. This Sprightly knight was born in 1613, and cut off by a fever about the 29th year of his age. See above, Song IX, of this Book.

WH

HY fo pale and wan, fond lover?
Prethee, why fo pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail ?

Prethee why fo pale?

Why fo dull and mute, young finner?

Prethee why fo mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing doe't?

Prethee why fo mute?

Quit, quit for fhame; this will not move,

This cannot take her;

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her.

5

ΤΟ

The devil take her!

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XVII. OLD.

XVII.

OLD TOM OF BEDLA M.

MAD SONG THE FIRST.

It is worth attention, that the English have more fongs and ballads on the subject of madness, than any of their neighbours. Whether it is that we are more liable to this calamity than other nations, or whether our native gloominess bath peculiarly recommended subjects of this caft to our writers, the fact is incontestable, as any one may be Satisfied, who will compare the printed collections of French, Italian Songs, &c. with thofe in our language.

Out of a much larger quantity, we have selected half a dozen MAD SONGS for these volumes. The three first are originals in their respective kinds; the merit of the three laft is chiefly that of imitation. They were written at confiderable intervals of time; but we have here grouped them together, that the reader may the better examine their comparative merits. He may confider them as jo many trials of fkill in a very peculiar fubject, as the conteft of jo many rivals to fhoot in the bow of Ules. The two first were probably written about the beginning of the last century; the third about the middle of it; the fourth and fixth towards the end; and the fifth within this prefent century.

This is given from the editor's folio MS. compared with two or three old printed copies.-With regard to the author of this old rhapjedy, in Walton's Compleat Angler, cap. 3. is

a fong

66

a fong in praise of angling, which the author fays was made at his requeft by Mr. WILLIAM BASSE, one that has "made the choice fongs of the HUNTER IN HIS CAREER, "and of Toм OF BEDLAM, and many others of note." p. 84. See Mr. HAWKINS's curious Edition, 8vo. of this excellent old Piece.

FOR

ORTH from my fad and darksome cell,
Or from the deepe abyffe of hell,

Mad Tom is come into the world againe
To fee if he can cure his diftempered braine.

Feares and cares oppreffe my foule ;
Harke, howe the angrye Fureys houle!
Pluto laughes, and Proferpine is gladd
To fee poore naked Tom of Bedlam madd.

Through the world I wander night and day
To feeke my ftraggling fenfes,
In an angrye moode I mett old Time,
With his pentarchye of tenses:

When me he spyed,

Away he hyed,

For time will stay for no man:

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Harke!

Harke! I heare Apollo's teame,

The carman 'gins to whistle; Chaft Diana bends her bowe,

The boare begins to bristle.

Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles,
To knocke off my troublesome shackles ;
Bid Charles make ready his waine

To fetch me my fenfes againe.

Laft night I heard the dog-ftar bark;

25

Mars met Venus in the darke;

Limping Vulcan het an iron barr,

30

And furiouslye made at the god of war:

Mars with his weapon laid about, But Vulcan's temples had the gout,

For his broad horns did fo hang in his light,
He could not fee to aim his blowes aright:

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Mercurye the nimble poft of heaven,
Stood ftill to see the quarrell;
Gorrel-bellyed Bacchus, gyant-like,
Beftryd a strong-beere barrell.

To mee he dranke,

I did him thanke,
But I could get no cyder;

40