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"Farewell, I cry'd, dear charming youth! with thee Each chearful prospect vanishes from me."

Loud shouts and triumphs on the Gallic coast
Salute me; but the noisy zeal was lost.
Nor shouts nor triumphs drew my least regard,
Thy parting sighs, methought, were all I heard.
But now at Albeville by Louis met,

I strove the thoughts of Suffolk to forget;
For here my faith was to my monarch vow'd,
And solemn rites my passion disallow'd:
However pure my former flames had been,
Unblemish'd honour made them now a sin.
But scarce my virtue had the conquest gain'd,
And every wild forbidden wish restrain'd;
When at St. Dennis, with imperial state
Invested, on the Gallic throne I sate;
The day with noble tournaments was grac'd,
Your name amongst the British champions plac'd,
Invited by a guilty thirst of fame,

Without regard to my repose, you came.
The lists I saw thee entering with surprize,
And felt the darting glances of thine eyes.

"Ye sacred Powers, I cry'd, that rule above!
Defend my breast from this perfidious love!
Ye holy Lamps! before whose awful lights
I gave my hand; and ye religious rites!
Assist me now; nor let a thought unchaste,
Or, guilty wish, my plighted honour blast!"
While passion, struggling with my pious fears,
Forc'd from my eyes involuntary tears.

Some tender blossom thus, with leaves enlarg'd,
Declines its head, with midnight dew o'ercharg'd:
The passing breezes shake the gentle flower,

And scatter all around a pearly shower.

K

From this distracting hour I shunn'd thy sight,
And gain'd the conquest by a prudent flight.
But human turns, and sovereign destiny,
Have set me now from those engagements free.
The stars, propitious to my virgin love,
My first desires and early vows approve;
While busy politicians urge in vain,

That public reasons should my choice restrain;
That none but York's or Lancaster's high race,
Or great Plantagenet's, I ought to grace!
Nor Suffolk wants a long illustrious line,
And worth that shall in future records shine.
They own'd thy valour when thy conquering lance
Carry'd the prize from all the youth of France.
Thy merit Henry's constant favour shows,
And Envy only can my choice oppose.
Thy noble presence, wit, and fine address,
The British and the Gallic court confess.
Alançon's shape, and Vendôme's sparkling eye,
Count Paul's gay mien, and Bourbon's majesty,
No longer are admir'd, when thou art by.
There nothing wants to justify my flame,
The statesmen grant, but a poor empty name.
And what's the gaudy title of a King?
What solid bliss can royal grandeur bring?
When thou art absent, what's the court to me,
But tiresome state, and dull formality?
This toy a crown I would resign, to prove
The peaceful joys of innocence and love.

THE

Pleasant History of the King

AND

LORD BIGOD OF BUNGAY.

Tune "Dunwich Roses."

Hugh Bigod was the descendant of Roger Bigod, who, at the time of the Norman Survey, was in possession of 117 manors in this county. The family came over with William, the Conqueror; and for their eminent services at the battle of Hastings, Roger was thus richly rewarded. His brother, Hugh Bigod, was created by King Stephen Earl of East Anglia; and in 1166 was advanced, by Henry the IInd. to the title and dignity of Earl of Norfolk, and died attainted in 1177. He was succeeded by his son Roger Bigod, who, though heir to the Earldom of Norfolk, and to the stewardship of the royal household, was obliged to purchase both by the payment of 1000 marks, in consequence of the attainder of his father. In the time of King John, he joined the refractory Barons, and was one of the most active amongst them in procuring for the people that great palladium of English liberty, MAGNA CHARTA. He, dying in 1220, was succeeded by his son Hugh, the subject of the following Ballad.

The Castle of Bungay is conjectured to have been built by this powerful family. During the intestine commotions, in the turbulent reign of Stephen, it was so strongly fortified by Hugh Bigod, and stood besides in such an advantageous situation, that he was accustomed to boast of it as impregnable; and is reported by Holinshed to have made use of this expression;

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"Were I in my Castle of Bungaye,

"Upon the Water of Waveney,

"I would ne set a button by the King of Cocknaye."

On the accession of Henry the Ind. however, this nobleman, who had invariably espoused the cause of

Stephen, was obliged to give a large sum of money, with sufficient hostages, to save this castle from destruction. Joining afterwards in the rebellion of Henry's eldest son against his father, he was deprived by the king of the castle of Bungay, as well as of Framlingham; but they were both restored, with his other estates and honors, to his son and heir, whose posterity enjoyed them for several generations. Hugh died in

1225.

In the reign of Henry the IIIrd. this castle was demolished; and in the 10th. year of Edward the Ist. Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, obtained permission to embattle his house, erected on the site of the ancient castle. He endowed his second wife, Alice, with this manor; and having no children, settled all his castles, towns, manors, and possessions on king Edward, and his heirs. The castle, borough, and manor of Bungay, are supposed to have been given by that monarch to his fifth son, Thomas de Brotherton, and to have been carried, by the marriage of his daughter and co-heiress, into the family of the Uffords.

The records, belonging to this castle, perished in the dreadful fire, which consumed the town, in 1688.

The mutability of human affairs is strikingly evinced by the present state of this once flourishing edifice; once the baronial residence of the great and powerful, where

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it is now become the habitation of the lowest class of people; a great number of wretched hovels having been raised against its walls, and let out in lodgings to the poor.

THE King has sent for Bigod bold,
In Essex whereat he lay,

But Lord Bigod laugh'd at his Poursuivant,
And stoutly thus did say:

"Were I in my castle of Bungay,

Upon the river of Waveney,

I would ne care for the King of Cockney."

Hugh Bigod was Lord of Bungay tower,
And a merry Lord was he,

So away he rode on his berry-black steed,
And sung with license and glee,
"Were I in my castle of Bungay,
Upon the river of Waveney,

I would ne care for the King of Cockney."

At Ipswich they laugh'd to see how he sped,
And at Ufford they star'd, I wis,

But at merry Saxmundham they heard his song,
And the song he sung was this:
"Were I in my castle of Bungay,
Upon the river of Waveney,

I would ne care for the King of Cockney."

The Baily he rode and the Baily he ran,
To catch the gallant Lord Hugh,
But for every mile the Baily rode,

The Earl he rode more than two:
Says, "Were I in my castle of Bungay,
Upon the river of Waveney,

I would ne care for the King of Cockney."

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