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The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton

with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell
Chatterton, Thomas (1752-1770)

expand sectionI. 
Vol. I.
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VOL. II.
  
BRISTOWE TRAGEDIE;
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ÆLLA,
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GODDWYN.
  
ENGLISH METAMORPHOSIS.
  
AN EXCELENTE BALADE OF CHARITIE
  
TO JOHNE LADGATE.
  
SONGE TO ÆLLA,
  
THE UNDERWRITTEN LINES WERE COMPOSED BY JOHN LADGATE, A PRIEST IN LONDON,
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THE TOURNAMENT.
 I. 
BATTLE OF HASTINGS. (No. I.)
 II. 
BATTLE OF HASTINGS. (No. II.)
  
THE ROMAUNTE OF THE CNYGHTE.
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ECLOGUES.
  
ELINOURE AND JUGA.
  
THE STORIE OF WILLIAM CANYNGE.
  
ON OUR LADY'S CHURCH.
  
ON THE SAME.
  
ON THE DEDICATION OF OUR LADY'S CHURCH.
  
FRAGMENT
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THE PARLIAMENT OF SPRITES.
  
Introduction by Queen Mab.
  
To John Carpenter, Bishop of Worcester.
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Sprites of Elle, Bythrycke, Fitz-hardynge, Frampton, Gaunte, Segowen, Lamyngeton, a Knight Templar, and Byrtonne. (By Rowlie.)
  
ON THE MYNSTER.
  
THE WORLD.
  
ONE CANTO OF AN ANCIENT POEM, CALLED THE UKNOWN KNIGHT OR THE TOURNAMENT.
  
THE FREERE OF ORDERYS WHYTE.
  
DIALOGUE,
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THE MERRIE TRICKES OF LAMYNGETOWNE.
  
SONGE OF SEYNCTE BALDYWYNNE.
  
SONGE OF SEYNCTE WARBURGHE.
  
SANCTE WARBUR.
  
WARRE.
  
A CHRONYCALLE OF BRYSTOWE.
  
ON HAPPIENESSE.
  
THE GOULER'S REQUIEM.
  
ONN JOHN A DALBENIE.
  
HEREAUDYN.
  
EPITAPH ON ROBERT CANYNGE.
  
THE ACCOUNTE OF W. CANYNGES FEAST.
  
FRAGMENT OF A POEM BY ROWLEY.
  
FRAGMENT OF A POEM BY ROWLEY:
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APPENDIX.

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XXXIII.

A Knight Templar's sprite
speaks.
In holy ground, where Saracens defile
The ground whereon our Savïour did go,
And Christès temple make to mosquès vile,
[And] words of déspite 'gainst our Saviour throw;
There 'twas that we did our warfarage do,
Guarding the pilgrims of the Christian fay;
And did our holy arms in blood embrue,
Moving like thunder-bolts in drear array,
Our strokes, like levin tearing the tall tree,
Our God our arm with lethal force did dree.

[Sprite of Knight Templar]

XXXIV.

Large tenures fair, and manors of great wealth,
Green woods, and brooklets running through the lea,
Did men us give for their dear soulès health;
Gave earthly riches for goods heavenly.
Nor did we let our riches useless be,
But did y-build the Temple Church so fine,
The which is brought about so bismarlie,
It seemeth camoys to the wondering eyne.
241

And ever and anon when bells ringèd,
From place to place it moveth its high head;
But Canynge from the sweat of his own brows
Did get his gold and raise this beauteous house.

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