Mortuus sæclo, superis superstes,
Hic jacet LYDGATE tumulatus in urnâ,
Qui fuit quondam celebris Britannæ
Famâ Poesis.

which has been thus quaintly rendered:

Dead in the world, yet living in the sky,
Intombed in this urn doth Lydgate lie,
In former times fam'd for his poetry
All over England.

In his Prologue to "The Story of Thebes," he gives the following description of himself, his horse, and his servant, at the command of mine host of the Tabard in Southwark, whom he found in Canterbury, with the rest of the Pilgrims, who went to visit the shrine of St. Thomas à Becket.

*

* while that the pilgrimes ley

At Canterbury, well lodged one and all,
+ I not in sooth what I may it call,
Hap or fortune, in conclusioun,
That me befell to enter into the toun,
The holy sainct plainely to visite,
After my sicknesse, vowes to acquite.
In a cope of blacke, and not of greene,
On a palfrey slender, long, and lene,
With rusty bridle, made not for the sale,
My man to forne with a voyd male,
That by fortune tooke mine inne anone
Where the pilgrimes were lodged euerichone.
The same time her gouernour the host
Stonding in hall, full of wind and bost,
Liche to a man wonder sterne and fers,
Which spake to me, and saied anon dan Pers,

t I know not.

Dan Dominicke, dan Godfray, or Clement,
Ye be welcome newly into Kent:

Thogh your bridle haue nother boos ne bell;
Beseeching you that ye will tell

First of your name, and what cuntre
Without more shortly that ye be,

That looke so pale, all deuoid of bloud,
Vpon your head a wonder thredbare hood,
Well arrayed for to ride late:

I answered my name was Lidgate,
Monk of Bury, me fifty yeare of age,
Come to this toune to do my pilgrimage
As I have *hight, I have thereof no shame :
Dan John (qd he) well brouke ye your name,
Though ye be sole, beeth right glad and light,
Praying you to soupe with vs this night;
And ye shall haue made at your deuis,
A great pudding, or a round hagis,
A franche † moile, a tanse, or a froise,
To been a monke slender in your §coise,
Ye haue been sicke I dare mine head assure,
Or let feed in a faint pasture.

Lift vp your head, be glad, take no sorrow,
And ye should home ride with vs to morrow,
say, when ye
rested haue your fill.
After supper, sleep will doen none ill,

I

Wrap well your head clothes round about,

Strong || nottie ale will make a man to rout,

Take a pillow that ye lie not low,

If need be, spare not to blow,
To hold wind by mine opinion,
Will engender colles passion,

Promised. † A dish made of marrow and grated bread.

Nappy ale.

And make men to greuen on her *rops
When they haue filled her mawes and her crops.
But toward night eat some fennell rede,
Annis, commin, or coriander sede,
And like as I haue power and might,
I charge you, rise not at midnight,
Thogh it be so the moon shine clere,
I will myselfe be your || orlogere,
To morrow earely when I see my time,
For we will forth parcell afore prime.
Accompanie‡ parde shall doe you good.

Thus, when the host had cheared up LIDGATE with these fair promises and wholesome admonitions for his health, he lays his commands upon him in these terms following:

What, look up, monk, for by cockes bloud
Thou shalt be merry, who so that say nay,
For to morrow anone as it is day,

And that it ginne in the east to daw,
Thou shalt be bound to a new law,

At going out of Canterbury toun,

And lien aside thy professioun,

Thou shalt not chese, nor thy self withdraw,
mirth be found in thy maw,

If any

Like the custome of this company,

For none so proud that dare me deny,

Knight + nor knaue, chanon, priest re nonne,
To tell a tale plainely as they conne,
When I assigne, and see time opportune;
And for that we our purpose will contune,

* Guts.

Clock. Verily. Nor Squire,

We will homeward the same custome vse,
And thou shalt not plainely thee excuse:
Be now well ware, study well to night,
But for all that, be thou of heart light,
Thy wit shall be the sharper and the bet.

Lines,

WRITTEN AT THE STONE, NEAR HADLEIGH,

Which commemorates the Martyrdom, of the Rev. Rowland Taylor, LL.D.

BY NATHAN DRAKE, M. D.

Dr. Rowland Taylor, a learned and godly divine, was presented to the Rectory of Hadleigh, in 1544, by Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, whose domestic chaplain he was. He was, says Fuller, a great scholar, a painful preacher, charitable to the poor, of a comely countenance, proper person, (but inclining to corpulency) and cheerful behaviour. He constantly resided on his living, confirming his flock in the truth by his diligent teaching and exemplary life, correcting the vicious and negligent by his impartial reproofs, and winning the poor by his daily charity and assistance. In the sanguinary persecutions, which disgraced the reign of the weak and bigotted Mary, he suffered for his firm adherence to the doctrines of the Reformation. The particulars are as follow. Some of the inhabitants of Hadleigh, headed by one Foster, a lawyer, and one Clerke, a leading man in the town, endeavoured to re-establish Mass in Hadleigh Church; and having erected an altar in it, procured John

Averth, the Parson of Aldham, to come and celebrate there, on Palm Sunday. Dr. Taylor was unacquainted with the design, but hearing the bell toll as he sat in his study, hastened to the church; and there finding the Priest, with a shaven crown and Popish vestments, ready to officiate, he burst out into a rage, saying, "Thou devil, how darest thou to enter this church of "Christ, to defile it with idolatry? I am the shep"herd that God and Christ have appointed over this "flock; and I command thee, O Popish wolf, in "the name of God, to depart hence, and not poison "this flock with Popish idolatry." The Parson was afraid to proceed, and seemed ready to retreat; but Foster and his adherents, having turned the Doctor by force out of the church, desired him to go on in his office, and finish the service. Soon after this contest, Foster and Clerke sent up a complaint to Dr. Gardiner, then Lord Chancellor, and Bishop of Winchester, against the Doctor, who was by the Bishop's letters ordered to appear before him; and in a short time was condemned to the stake. The Doctor was taken by the Sheriff's of London, and conveyed to an Inn without Aldgate, where he was delivered to the Sheriff of Essex, who conducted him to Chelmsford, when Sir John Shelton, the Sheriff of Suffolk received him, and carried him to Lavenham, where they stopped two days. On entering Hadleigh by the bridge, a number of the poor wept bitterly, when the Sheriff rebuked them. On the Doctor's passing the Alms-House, he enquired if the blind man and woman were alive, and being answered in the affirmative, threw the glove, which contained his money, in at the window. On his way to Aldham Common, the Doctor said, "I shall this day deceive the worms in Hadleigh Church-yard;" and fetching a leap or two when he came to the town, now, said he, lack I but two stiles, and I am even "at my Father's house." He was burned February 9, 1555, on the Common in that parish, which is usually, though improperly, called Aldham Common. On a spot, which marks the place of his execution, is a stone with this mispelt inscription:

66