The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton For the First Time Collected and Edited: With Memorial-Introduction, Notes and Illustrations, Glossarial Index, Facsimilies, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart. In Two Volumes |
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 | The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton |  |
[The Christmas now is past, and I haue kept my fast]
In the latter end of Christmas, the same Gentleman was likewise desired to sing; and although against his will, was content to singe as followeth.
The Christmas now is past, and I haue kept my fast,
With prayer euery day:
And like a Country Clowne, with nodding vp and downe,
Haue past the time away.
With prayer euery day:
And like a Country Clowne, with nodding vp and downe,
Haue past the time away.
27
As for old Christmas Games, or daunsing with fine Dames,
Or shewes, or prety playes:
A solemne oath I sweare, I came not where they were,
Not all these holy dayes.
Or shewes, or prety playes:
A solemne oath I sweare, I came not where they were,
Not all these holy dayes.
I did not sing one noate, except it were by roate,
Still buzing like a Bee:
To ease my heauy harte, of some, though little smarte,
For want of other glee.
Still buzing like a Bee:
To ease my heauy harte, of some, though little smarte,
For want of other glee.
And as for pleasaunt Wine, there was no drinke so fine,
For to be tasted heere:
Full simple was my fare, if that I should compare,
The same to Christmas cheere.
For to be tasted heere:
Full simple was my fare, if that I should compare,
The same to Christmas cheere.
I sawe no kinde of sight, that might my minde delight,
Beleeue me, noble Dame:
But euery thing I saw, did freat at wo my maw,
To thinke vpon the same.
Beleeue me, noble Dame:
But euery thing I saw, did freat at wo my maw,
To thinke vpon the same.
Upon some bushy balke, full faine I was to walke
In Wooddes, from tree to tree,
For wante of better roome: but since my fatall doome,
Hath so appointed mee:
In Wooddes, from tree to tree,
For wante of better roome: but since my fatall doome,
Hath so appointed mee:
I stoode therewith content, till Christmas full was spente,
In hope that God will sende
A better yet next yeare, my heauie heart to cheare:
And so I make an ende.
In hope that God will sende
A better yet next yeare, my heauie heart to cheare:
And so I make an ende.
| The Works in Verse and Prose of Nicholas Breton | |