God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all;

A woful hunting once there did
In Chevy-Chase befall;

To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Earl Percy took his way;

The child may rue that is unborn,
The hunting of that day.

The stout Earl of Northumberland
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summer's days to take;

The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase
To kill and bear away.

These tidings to Earl Douglas came,
In Scotland where he lay:

Who sent Earl Percy present word,
He would prevent his sport.
The English Earl, not fearing that,
Did to the woods resort

With fifteen hundred bow-men bold,
All chosen men of might,

Who knew full well in time of need
To aim their shafts aright.

The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow-deer:

On Monday they began to hunt,
Ere daylight did appear;

And long before high noon they had
An hundred fat bucks slain;

Then having dined, the drovers went
To rouse the deer again.

The bow-men muster'd on the hills,

Well able to endure;

Their backsides all, with special care,

That day were guarded sure.

The hounds ran swiftly through the woods,

The nimble deer to take,

That with their cries the hills and dales

An echo shrill did make.

Lord Percy to the quarry went,

To view the slaughter'd deer;
Quoth he, Earl Douglas promised
This day to meet me here:

But if I thought he would not come,
No longer would I stay.

With that, a brave young gentleman
This to the Earl did say.

Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come,
His men in armor bright;
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight;

All men of pleasant Tivydale,
Fast by the river Tweed:

O cease your sports, Earl Percy said,
And take your bows with speed:
And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance;
For there was never champion yet,
In Scotland or in France,

That ever did on horseback come,
But if my hap it were,

I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear.

Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,

Rode foremost of his company,

Whose armor shone like gold.

Show me, said he, whose men you be
That hunt so boldly here,

That, without my consent, do chase
And kill my fallow-deer.

The first man that did answer make,
Was noble Percy he;

Who said, We list not to declare,
Nor show whose men we be:

Yet we will spend our dearest blood
Thy chiefest harts to slay.
Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say,

Ere thus I will out-braved be,
One of us two shall die:

I know thee well, an earl thou art;
Lord Percy, so am I.

But trust me, Percy, pity it were,
And great offence to kill
Any of these our guiltless men,
For they have done no ill.

Let thou and I the battle try,
And set our men aside,
Accurst be he, Earl Percy said,
By whom this is denied.

Then stepp'd a gallant squire forth,
Witherington was his name,
Who said, I would not have it told
To Henry our king for shame,

1 i. e. "I, as one in deep concern, must lament." The construction here has generally been mi». understood. The old MSS. read "woful dumps." The corresponding verse in the old ballad is as follows:

"For Wetharryngton my harte was wo,

That ever he slayne shulde be;

For when both his leggis wear hewyne in to,

Yet he knyled and fought on hys kne."

The rest were slain in Chevy-Chase,
Under the greenwood tree.

Next day did many widows come,
Their husbands to bewail;

They washed their wounds in brinish tears,
But all would not prevail.

Their bodies, bathed in purple gore,

They bare with them away:

They kiss'd them dead a thousand times,
Ere they were clad in clay.

God save our king, and bless this land
With plenty, joy, and peace;

And grant henceforth, that foul debate
"Twixt noblemen may cease.

THE TWO CORBIES.1

There were two corbies sat on a tree
Large and black as black might be;
And one the other gan say,

Where shall we go and dine to-day?
Shall we go dine by the wild salt sea?
Shall we go dine 'neath the greenwood tree?

As I sat on the deep sea sand,

I saw a fair ship nigh at land,

I waved my wings, I bent my beak,
The ship sunk, and I heard a shriek;
There they lie, one, two, and three,
I shall dine by the wild salt sea.

Come, I will show ye a sweeter sight,
A lonesome glen, and a new-slain knight;
His blood yet on the grass is hot,

His sword half-drawn, his shafts unshot,
And no one kens that he lies there,

But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame,
His lady's away with another mate,
So we shall make our dinner sweet;
Our dinner's sure, our feasting free,
Come, and dine by the greenwood tree.
Ye shall sit on his white hause-bane,2
I will pick out his bony blue een;
Ye'll take a tress of his yellow hair,
To theak yere nest when it grows bare;
The gowden3 down on his young chin
Will do to sewe my young ones in.

THE pretensions of Queen Elizabeth to poetic genius are about as valid as her pretensions to beauty; yet she loved to be flattered for both, as much as for her classical attainments, which she really possessed. The desire of shining as a poetess was one of her weaknesses; and her vanity, no doubt, made her regard as tributes justly paid, the extravagant praises which the courtiers and writers of her age lavished on her royal ditties.

We have but very little of her poetry: the best piece, perhaps, is one which shows that, notwithstanding her maidenly stateliness and prudery, she was not altogether a stranger to the tender passion.

VERSES ON HER OWN FEELINGS.

I GRIEVE, and dare not show my discontent,
I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate;

1 It would of course be impossible here to give a mere outline of Elizabeth's life, so full of important events. Any good history of England may be read for the requisite information. Of the smaller histories, Keightley's is the best. Read, also, a well-written life in Mrs. Strickland's "Lives of the Queens of England." In Dr. Drake's "Shakspeare and his Times," will be found some interesting particulars of her attainments, domestic habits, love of dress, vanity, jealousy, and her fondness for the drama and the brutal show of bear-baiting, &c. &c.

2 These verses first appeared in print in "Headley's Anc. Eng. Poet." They were transcribed from a manuscript in the Ashmolean Museum. Unfortunately, the most important word is half obliterated-"upon Moun-s departure;" but the following account from the old chronicler Stow shows pretty conclusively that it refers to the Duke of Alencon. "These Lords (the Ambassadors from France,) after divers secret conferences amongst themselves, and return of sundry letters into France, signifying the queen's declination from marriage, and the people's unwillingness to match that way, held it most convenient that the duke should come in proper person, whose presence they thought in such affairs might prevail more than all their oratory: and, thereupon, the first of November, the said prince came over in person, very princely accompanied and attended, though not in such glorious manner as were the above-named commissioners, whose entertainment, in all respects, was equivalent unto his estate and dignity. By this time his picture, state, and titles vere advanced in every stationer's shop, and many other public places, by the name of Frauncis of Varow, Duke of Alanson, heir apparent of France, and brother to the French king: but he was better known by the name of Monsicur, unto all sorts of people, than by all his other titles. During his abode in England, he used all princely means to prefer his suit, and in his carriage demeaned himself like a true born prince, and the heir of France: and when he had well observed the queen's full determination to continue a single life, he pacified himself, admiring her rare virtues and high perfections. The queen in all respects showed as great kindness unto the duke and all his retinue, at their departure, as at any time before, and for period of her princely favors, in that behalf, she, with great state, accompanied the duke in person to Canterbury; where she feasted him and all his train very royally, and then returned. The next day, being the sixth of February, the duke, with his French lords and others, embarked at Sandwich."

"As dead queens rank but with meaner mortals, we may assert, without much fear of contradic tion, that little else can now be gratified by the perusal of Elizabeth's poetry than mere curiosity.”— Headley.