The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
113
SIR T. WYATT.
Retired to the Country, to Arlington, where he passed a Life of Tranquillity; he despised Harry the Eighth's Court.—Wyatt boasts of his Liberty.
Free am I nowe—I courtes do follow not,
But myne own pleasure dayly I persue;
I aske aboute no courtiers—no, God wot,
Sith I to courtes have bidden longe adieu:
For when at courtes, on hands and knees they crawl,
Like whipped dogs, and be for aye inthrall.
But myne own pleasure dayly I persue;
I aske aboute no courtiers—no, God wot,
Sith I to courtes have bidden longe adieu:
For when at courtes, on hands and knees they crawl,
Like whipped dogs, and be for aye inthrall.
When morne doth glister, oft bayte I myne hook,
And forthe I go the river's bank besyde;
And there I privilye do searche the brooke,
And trye if fish unneath the surface glyde,
And often do I bringe them to the lande,
And then unhooke them with a happy hande.
And forthe I go the river's bank besyde;
And there I privilye do searche the brooke,
And trye if fish unneath the surface glyde,
And often do I bringe them to the lande,
And then unhooke them with a happy hande.
She whoame I love doth sumtime straye,
And sees me dragge the pris'ner from the floude;
And that it is most cruelle, she doth saye,
To spille of little fish the harmless bloode.
‘Eche little fish,’ she telleth with a teare,
‘Which thou dost kille, perchaunce hath got his dere.’
And sees me dragge the pris'ner from the floude;
And that it is most cruelle, she doth saye,
To spille of little fish the harmless bloode.
‘Eche little fish,’ she telleth with a teare,
‘Which thou dost kille, perchaunce hath got his dere.’
And oft she pulleth a fish from my hande,
And putteth him agayne into the brooke;
Sayinge, ‘Go fishe, thyne liberty commande,
And learne t'avoide, poor foole, the hyden hooke.’
And then she smylinge doth a moral fynde,
And lykeneth fishe betray'd to woman-kynde.
And putteth him agayne into the brooke;
Sayinge, ‘Go fishe, thyne liberty commande,
And learne t'avoide, poor foole, the hyden hooke.’
And then she smylinge doth a moral fynde,
And lykeneth fishe betray'd to woman-kynde.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |