s. i. FEB. 20, 1904.] NOTES AND QUERIES.
141
LONDON, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY SO, 190L
CONTENTS. -No. 8.
MOTES : ' Merry Thoughts in a Sad Place,' 141 Biblio- graphy of Publishing and Bookselling, 142 The Plough- ging and other Measures, 143 W. Stephens, President of eorgia, 144 Chaplain to the Edinburgh Garrison Poe : a Supposed Poem ' Chambers's Cyclopaedia of English Literature,' 145 Bpigram on Reynolds "Sassaby" Anagrams on Pius X. Richard Fitzpatrick and C. J. Fox 'The Oxford English Dictionary,' 146.
QUERIES : Babar's Memoirs Water of Jealousy Spanish Doggerel, 147 Book Collectors Sundial Motto Earl of Egremont Ferdinando Gorges of Eye "An Austrian army" Audyn Family W. H. Kidd Melancholy Rue and Tuscan Pawnbrokers, 148" Drug in the market" Clavering: De Mandeville "King of Patterdale" Knight Templar Monastery of Mount Grace le Ebor' 8t. Dunstan, 149.
REPLIES : Addison's Daughter, 149 ' Address to Poverty,' 151 Werden Abbey -Comber Family Seion Bagshaw Halley's C 'met Immurement Alive, 152 John Lewis, Portrait Painter "Moose," 15-3 -Tickling Trout "Fide, sed cui vide," 154 Aylmer Arms Flaying Alive Arms Wante', 155 Field-names, West Haddon Rev. S. Fisher Penrith William Hartley "Gimerro" Glowworm or Firefly, 156 Crowns in Tower of Church Cardinals and Crimson Robes St. Mary Axe : St. Michael le Querne, 157" Going the round" : " Roundhouse "Carved Stone Relics of St. Gregory the Great Sir Henry Chauncy Frost and its Forms Right Hon. E. Southwell, 158 Imaginary Saints, 159.
NOTES ON BOOKS : Bell's 'Lives and Legends of the English Bishops and Kings ' Saintsbury's ' John Dryden ' 'English Historical Review ' ' Edinburgh Review.'
Notices to Correspondents.
'MERRY THOUGHTS IN A SAD PLACE.'
AN expansion, by Col. Le Strange, of Love-
lace's ' To Althaea from Prison,' copied into a
note-book, in 16*49, by Thomas Plume, under-
graduate of Christ's College, Cambridge,
may be worth preserving in the pages of
'N. &Q.':-
MEBRY THOUGHTS IN A SAD PLACE. Beat on, proud billows ! Boreas, blow ! Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof ! Your incivilities will show That innocence is tempest-proof ;
Though surly Nereus frown, my thoughts are
calm.
Then strike, afflictions ! for your wounds are balm.
That which the world miscalls a jail,
A secret closet is to mee ;
Whilst a good conscience is my bail ;
And innocence, my liberty.
Locks, walls, bars, solitude, together mett, Make me no prizoner, but au anchoret.
I, whilst 1 wish'd to be retir'd, ;
Into this private room am turn'd,
As if their wisdomes had conspired
The Salamander should be burn'd ;
And, like those sophics who would drown a fish, 1 am condemn'd to suffer what I wish.
The Cynick hugs his poverty ;
The pelican, her wilderness ;
And 'tis the Indian's pride to be
Naked on frozen Caucasus.*
Contentment cannot smart. Stoicks (we see) Make torments easy to their Apathy.
The manacles upon my arme
I, as my sweetheart's bracelets, wear :
And then, to keep my ancles warme,
I have some iron shackles there.
The walls are but my garrison. This cell, Which men call jayll, doth prove my Cittadell.
So he that strooke at Jason's life,
Thinking t' have niade his purpose sure,
By a malicious-friendly knife
Did only wound him to a cure.
Malice wants witt, I see ; for, what is meant Mischief, oft-times proves favour by event.
I 'm in this Cabinet lock'd up,
Like some rich prized margarite ;
Or, like some great Mogul, or Pope,
I 'me cloysterd from the publique sight. Retirdness is a peece of majesty, And (proud Sultan) [I] seem as great as thee.
Here sin for want of food must sterve Where tempting objects are not seen ; And these strong walls doe onely serve To keep sin out, and keep mee in.
Malice of late 'a growne charitable, sure.
I 'm not committed, but am kept secure.
When once my Prince affliction hath, Prosperity doth treason seem : And then, to smooth so rough a path, I can learn patience from him.
Now not-to-suffer shewes no loyall heart.
When kings want ease, subjects must learn to smart.
What though I cannot see my Kiag,
Either in 's person or his coyn :
Yet contemplation is a thing
Which renders that (which is not) mine.
My king from mee what adamant can part, Whom I doe wear engraved on my heart?
My soul is free as th' ambient aire,
Although my baser part 's imrnur'd.
While loyall thoughts doe yet repair
My company is solitude.
And, though rebellion doe my body bind, My king can only captivate my mind.
Have you not seen the nightingale,
A pilgrim coopd up in a cage,
How she doth sing her wonted tale
In that, her narrow hermitage ?
Even such her chanting melody doth prove, That all her barrs are trees, her cage a grove.
I am that bird, whom they combine Thus to deprive of liberty. So, though they doe my corps confine, Yet (maugre hate) my soul is free ;
And, though immured, I can chirp and sing Disgrace to rebels, glory to my king. Made by Colonell le Strange, imprizoned by the Parliament.
ANDREW CLARK.
- The Scythians were all face.
