The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden ::

Doe all pens slumber still, darr not one tray
In tumbling lynes to lett some pasquill fly?
Each houer a Satyre creuith to display
The secretts of this Tragick Comick play.
If Loue should let me vrett, I think you'd see
The Perenies and Alpes cum skipe to me,
And lauch them selues assunder; If I'd trace
The hurly-burly of stait bussines,
And to the vorld abused once bot tell
The Legend of Ignatian Matchiuell,
That old bold smouking Monster, and the pryde
Of thesse vsurping prælats that darr ryde
Vpone Authority, and Looke so gay
As If (goodmen) they ought (forsuith) to suay
Church, stait, and all: plague one that damned crew
Of such Hells black-mouth'd houndes; its of a New
That Roman pandars boldly dar'd to vo

294

Nay, straine a gentle king thesse things to doo,
That Moue the French, Italian, & Spaine,
In a luxurious and insulting straine
To sing te Deum, causse they houpe to see
The Glorie of the popeisch prelacie
Raissed aboue his Royall throne apaice,
To Droune his miner Light vith prouder face.
Thesse hounds they haue ingaged him one the stage
Of Sharpe-eyed Europe, nay, ther's not a page
Bot thinks he may laugh freily quhen he sees
Kings Buffons acte, and Bischopes Tragedies.
Should aney dauly with the lyons paw,
Then knou a distance, Se[r]pents stand in aw.
Naye, pray you Heauens, once lend me bot your thunder,
Ile crusch and teare thesse sordid slaues assunder,
And leuell with the dust ther Altars horne,
With the lascivious organs, pieties scorne;
Or lett me be as king, then of their skine
Ile causse dresse lether and fyne Marikin,
To couer coatches (quher they wount to ryde)
And valk in bootes and shoes made of ther hyde,
Vhipe them at neighbour princes courts to show,
That No Nouations Scotts zeall can allow.
I sacrefisse vold such presumtious slaues
To my deir people, beat to dust the knaues,
Then of the pouder of ther bons to dray
The hare and pereuige to the popes lackay.
I noblie should resent and take to heart
Thesse pedants pryde that make poore Brittane smart,
Confound the church, the stait, and all the nation
With appish fooleries and abomination,
Leaues churches desolate, and stopes the mouth
Of faithfull vatchmen quho dare preach bot treuth;
Incendiary fyrebrands, whosse proud wordes
Drope blood, and sounds the clattring Noysse of Suordis.
Had I bot halffe the spyte of Galloway Tom,

295

That Roman snakie viper, I'd fall from
Discreitter lynes, and rube ther itching eare
With Spanish Nouells: bot I will forbeare.
Becausse my foster and my amorous quill
Is not yet hard, proud pasquills to distill,
I doe intreat that droll Johne de Koell
To sting them with satyres hatcht in hell;
Each doge chyde thesse tabacco breathed deuyns,
Each pen dairt volums of acutest lynes,
And print the shame of that blacke troupe profaine
In liuid vords, with a Tartarian straine.
Since I a Louer am, and know not how
To lim a Satyre in halffe hyddeous hew,
Lyke to polypragmatick Macheuell,
In pleasant flame (not stryffe) I loue to duell.
Bot nou to Paris back I goe to tell
Some neues to plotting Riceleu: fair you well.

296

II. FOR THE KINGE.

Seinge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

From such a face quhois excellence
May captiuate my souerainges sense,
And make him, Phœbus lyk, his throne
Reseinge to some young Phaeton
Quhosse skilles and unluckey hand
May proue the Ruine of this Land,
Vnlesse Grate Ioue, doune from the skayes
Beholding our calamities,
Strick with his hand that can not er
The proud vsurping character,
And cur, tho' Phœbus er, our voe:
From such a Face as may work so,
Quhersoeuer he has his being,
Blis my souerainge & his seing.

297

Heiringe.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

From Jests profaine and flatring toungues,
From Baudie tailles, from beastly songes,
From after-supper suites that feir
A parliament & byes it deir;
From Spanisch tretties that may wound
Our countries peace, our Gospell sound;
From Ioues fals freinds that wald intyss
My souerainge from heauens paradize;
From profeitts such as Achabes wer,
Quhosse flattring smouthes my souerainges eare,
With fanceis more nor hes maker feiring;
Bliss My soueraing & his heiring.

Taistinge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

From all fruittes that are forbiddin,
Such for wich old Eue was chiddin;
From Bread of Labowrers, Suyet & toyle,
From the poore widowes mythe & oyle;
From the canditis poysoned baittes
Of Jesuitts and the desaittes,
Italian sallets, & Romisse d[r]ogis,
The milk of Babells proud houris duggis;
From Blood of Innocents oftin vrongit
From thair estaits thats from them throngit;
From Wyne that may disturbe the braine,
And from the dangerous figges of Spaine;
At all banquetts & al feasting,
Bliss my soueraing and his taisting.

298

Smellinge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Quher Myrre and Incence are often throwen
One Altars built to gods unknowen,
O lett my soueraing neuer smell
Such damd perfumes; thy'r fitt for hell.
Lett no such sent his nossethirles staine,
From smells that poyson may the braine,
Heauens still preserue him. Nixt I craue
Thow will be pleassed, Grate God, to saue
My soueraing from a Ganemed
Quhosse hoourische breath hath pouer to lead
His Maiestie such way he list;
O neuer lett such lippes be kist;
From any breath so far excelling
Bliss my soueraing & his smelling.

Feillinge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

From prick of Conscience, such a stinge
As kills the soule, Heauens blisse my king;
From such a brybe as may withdraw
His thoughts from Equitie and Law;
From such a smouth and bardles chine
As may prouocke or tempt to sin;
From such a hand quhosse palme may
My soueraing leid out from the way;
From things pollutit and wncleine,
From all thats beastly and obschene;
From quhat may set his soule one reilling,
Bliss my soueraing & his feillinge.

299

Epiloge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[And nou, grate God, I humbley pray]

And nou, grate God, I humbley pray
That thow may take the selue away,
That keipis my soueraings Eiyes from woing
The thing that may be his vndooing.
And lett him heir, good God, the soundis
As weill of men as of hes houndis.
Giue him a taist, and truly too
Of quhat hes subiects undergo.
Giue him all feilling of ther wois,
Then sune no doubt his royall noisse
Will quickly smell thesse Rascalls furthe,
Quhosse blacke deids haue ecclipsit his worth;
Then found syne scurgit for ther offences,
Heauens blisse my soueraign and his senses.

300

III. HYMNS.

i. Hymn.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Him whom the Earth, the Sea, and Sky]

Him whom the Earth, the Sea, and Sky
Worship, adore, and magnify,
And doth this threefold Engine steer,
Mary's pure Closet now doth bear.

Whom Sun and Moon, and Creatures all,
Serving at Times, obey his Call;
Pouring from Heaven his Sacred Grace,
I' th' Virgin's Bowels hath ta'ne Place.

Mother most blest by such a Dower,
Whose Maker, Lord of highest Power,
Who this wide World in Hand contains,
In thy Womb's Ark himselfe restrains.

Blest by a Message from Heaven brought,
Fertile with Holy Ghost full fraught;
Of Nations the desired King,
Within thy Sacred Womb doth spring.

Lord, may Thy Glory still endure,
Who born wast of a Virgin pure;
The Father's and the Sp'rit's of Love,
Which endless Worlds may not remove.

301

ii. An Evening Hymn.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Maker of all, we Thee intreat,
Before the joyful Light descend,
That Thou with wonted Mercy great
Us as our Keeper would'st defend.

Let idle Dreams be far away,
And vain Illusions of the Night;
Repress our Foe, least that he may
Our Bodies to foul Lust incite.

Let this, O Father, granted be,
Through our dear Saviour's boundless Merit,
Who doth for ever Live with Thee,
Together with the holy Spirit.

iii. Complaint of the Blessed Virgin.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The Mother stood with Grief confounded,
Near the Cross; her Tears abounded
While her dear Son hanged was,
Through whose Soul, her Sighs forth venting,
Sadly mourning and lamenting,
Sharpest Points of Swords did pass.
O how sad and how distress'd,
Was the Mother ever-bless'd,
Who God's only Son forth-brought:
She in Grief and Woes did languish,
Quaking to behold what Anguish
To her noble Son was wrought.

302

iv. Hymn upon the Nativity.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Christ, whose Redemption all doth free,
Son of the Father, who alone
Before the World began to be,
Didst spring from Him by Means unknown;

Thou his clear Brightness, thou his Light,
Thou everlasting Hope of all,
Observe the Prayers which in Thy Sight
Thy Servants through the World let fall.

O dearest Saviour, bear in Mind
That of our Body Thou a Child
Didst whilom take the natural Kind,
Born of the Virgin undefil'd.

This much the present Day makes known,
Passing the Circuit of the Year,
That thou from thy high Father's Throne
The World's sole Safety didst appear.

The highest Heaven, the Earth, and Seas,
And all that is within them found,
Because he sent Thee us to ease,
With mirthful Songs his Praise resound.

We also who redeemed are
With Thy pure Blood from sinful State,
For this thy Birth-Day will prepare
New Hymns this Feast to celebrate.

Glory, O Lord, be given to Thee
Whom the unspotted Virgin bore,
And Glory to Thee, Father, be,
And th' holy Ghost for ever more.

303

v. Hymn upon the Innocents.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Hail, you sweet Babes, that are the Flowers,
Whom (when you Life begin to taste,)
The Enemy of Christ devours,
As Whirlwinds down the Roses cast.

First Sacrifice to Christ you went,
Of offer'd Lambs a tender Sort;
With Palms and Crowns you Innocent
Before the sacred Altar sport.

304

vi. Dedication of a Church.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Jerusalem, that place Divine,
The Vision of sweet Peace is nam'd,
In Heaven her glorious Turrets shine,
Her Walls of living Stones are fram'd,
While Angels guard her on each Side,
Fit Company for such a Bride.
She deckt in new Attire from Heaven,
Her Wedding-Chamber now descends,
Prepar'd in Marriage to be given
To Christ, on whom her Joy depends.
Her Walls wherewith she is inclos'd,
And Streets are of pure Gold compos'd.
The Gates adorn'd with Pearls most bright
The Way to hidden Glory show;
And thither by the blessed Might
Of Faith in Jesus's Merits go
All these who are on Earth distrest,
Because they have Christ's Name profest.
These Stones the Work-men dress and beat,
Before they throughly Polisht are,
Then each is in his proper Seat
Establisht by the Builder's Care,
In this fair Frame to stand for ever,
So joyn'd that them no Force can sever.
To God, who sits in highest Seat,
Glory and Power given be,
To Father, Son, and Paraclete,
Who reign in equal Dignity;
Whose boundless Power we still adore,
And sing their Praise for ever-more.

305

vii. Hymn.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Jesv, our Prayers with Mildness hear]

Jesv, our Prayers with Mildness hear,
Who art the Crown which Virgins decks,
Whom a pure Maid did breed and bear,
The sole Example of her Sex.

Thou feeding there where Lillies spring,
While round about the Virgins dance,
Thy Spouse dost to Glory bring,
And them with high Rewards advance.

The Virgins follow in thy Ways
Whithersoever thou dost go,
They trace thy Steps with Songs of Praise,
And in sweet Hymns thy Glory show.

Cause thy protecting Grace, we pray,
In all our Senses to abound,
Keeping from them all harms which may
Our Souls with foul Corruption wound.

Praise, Honour, Strength, and Glory great
To God, the Father, and the Son,
And to the holy Paraclete,
While Time lasts, and when Time is done.

306

viii. Hymn.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Benign Creator of the Stars]

Benign Creator of the Stars,
Eternal Light of faithful Eyes,
Christ, whose Redemption none debars,
Do not our humble Prayers despise:

Who for the state of Mankind griev'd,
That it by Death destroy'd should be,
Hast the diseased World reliev'd,
And given the Guilty Remedy.

When th' Evening of the World drew near,
Thou as a Bridegroom deign'st to come
Out of thy Wedding-Chamber dear,
Thy Virgin Mother's purest Womb.

To the strong Force of whose high Reign
All Knees are bow'd with Gesture low,
Creatures which Heaven or Earth contain,
With Rev'rence their Subjection show.

O holy Lord, we thee desire,
Whom we expect to judge all Faults,
Preserve us, as the Times require,
From our deceitful Foes Assaults.

Praise, Honour, Strength, and Glory great
To God, the Father, and the Son,
And to the holy Paraclete,
Whilst Time lasts, and when Time is done.

307

ix. Hymn for Sunday.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

O blest Creator of the Light,
Who bringing forth the Light of Days
With the first Work of Splendor bright,
The World didst to Beginning raise;

Who Morn with Evening joyn'd in one,
Commandedst should be call'd the Day;
The foul Confusion now is gone,
O hear us when with Tears we Pray;

Lest that the Mind with Fears full fraught,
Should lose best Life's Eternal Gains,
While it hath no Immortal Thought,
But is inwrapt in sinful Chains.

O may it beat the inmost Sky,
And the Reward of Life possess;
May we from hurtful Actions fly,
And purge away all Wickedness.

Dear Father, grant what we intreat,
And only Son who like Power hast,
Together with the Paraclete,
Reigning whilst Times and Ages last.

308

x. Hymn for Monday.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Great Maker of the Heavens wide,
Who, least Things mixt should all confound,
The Floods and Waters didst divide,
And didst appoint the Heavens their bound;

Ordering where heavenly Things shall stay,
Where Streams shall run on earthly Soyl,
That Waters may the Flames allay,
Least they the Globe of Earth should spoil;

Sweet Lord, into our Minds infuse
The Gift of everlasting Grace,
That no old Faults which we did use
May with new Frauds our Souls deface.

May our true Faith obtain the Light,
And such clear Beams our Hearts possess
That it vain Things may banish quite,
And that no Falshood it oppress.

Dear Father, grant what we intreat, etc.

309

xi. Hymn for Tuesday.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Great Maker of Man's earthly Realm,
Who didst the Ground from Waters take,
Which did the troubled Land o'rewhelm,
And it unmoveable didst make,

That there young Plants might fitly spring,
While it with golden Flowers attir'd
Might forth ripe Fruit in Plenty bring,
And yield sweet Fruit by all desir'd;

With fragrant Greenness of thy Grace,
Our blasted Souls of Wounds release,
That tears foul Sins away may chase,
And in the Mind bad Motions cease:

May it obey thy heavenly Voice,
And never drawing near to Ill,
T' abound in Goodness may rejoyce,
And may no mortal sin fulfil.

Dear Father, etc.

310

xii. Hymn for Wednesday.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

O holy God of heavenly Frame,
Who mak'st the Pole's high Center bright,
And paint'st the same with shining Flames,
Adorning it with beauteous Light;

Who framing on the fourth of Days
The fiery Chariot of the Sun,
Appoint'st the Moon her changing Rays,
And Orbs in which the Planets run,

That Thou might'st by a certain bound,
'Twixt Night and Day Division make,
And that some sure Sign might be found
To shew when Months Beginning take;

Men's Hearts with lightsome Splendor bless,
Wipe from their minds polluting spots,
Dissolve the Bond of Guiltiness,
Throw down the Heaps of sinful Blots.

Dear Father, etc.

311

xiii. Hymn for Thursday.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

O God, whose Forces far extend,
Who Creatures which from Waters spring
Back to the Flood dost partly send,
And up to th' Air dost partly bring;

Some in the Waters deeply div'd,
Some playing in the Heavens above,
That Natures from one Stock deriv'd
May thus to several Dwellings move;

Upon thy Servants Grace bestow,
Whose Souls thy bloody Waters clear,
That they no sinful Falls may know,
Nor heavy Grief of Death may bear;

That Sin no Soul opprest may thrall,
That none be lifted high with Pride,
That Minds cast downward do not fall,
Nor raised up may backward slide.

Dear Father, etc.

312

xiv. Hymn for Friday.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

God, from whose Work Mankind did spring,
Who all in Rule dost only keep,
Bidding the dry Land forth to bring
All kind of Beasts which on it creep;

Who hast made subject to Man's Hand
Great Bodies of each mighty Thing,
That taking Life from thy Command,
They might in Order serve their King;

From us thy Servants (Lord) expel
Those Errors which Uncleanness breeds,
Which either in our Manners dwell,
Or mix themselves among our Deeds.

Give the Rewards of joyful Life,
The plenteous Gifts of Grace encrease,
Dissolve the cruel Bonds of Strife,
Knit fast the happy League of Peace.

Dear Father, etc.

313

xv. Hymn for Saturday.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

O Trinity, O blessed Light,
O Unity, most principal!
The fiery Sun now leaves our Sight,
Cause in our Hearts thy Beams to fall.

Let us with Songs of Praise divine,
At Morn and Evening Thee implore,
And let our Glory bow'd to Thine,
Thee glorify for ever-more.

To God the Father Glory great,
And Glory to his only Son,
And to the holy Paraclete,
Both now and still while Ages run.

314

xvi. Upon the Sundays in Lent.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Hymn.

O merciful Creator, hear
Our Prayers to Thee devoutly bent,
Which we pour forth with many a Tear
In this most holy Fast of Lent.

Thou mildest Searcher of each Heart,
Who know'st the weakness of our Strength,
To us forgiving Grace impart,
Since we return to Thee at length.

Much have we sinned to our Shame,
But spare us who our Sins confess;
And for the Glory of thy Name,
To our sick Souls afford Redress.

Grant that the Flesh may be so pin'd
By Means of outward Abstinence,
As that the sober watchful Mind
May fast from Spots of all Offence.

Grant this, O blessed Trinity,
Pure Unity, to this incline,
That the Effects of Fasts may be
A grateful Recompence for Thine.

315

xvii. On the Ascension Day.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

O Jesu, who our Souls dost save,
On whom our Love and Hopes depend,
God, from whom all Things Being have,
Man, when the World drew to an end;

What Clemency Thee vanquisht so,
Upon Thee our foul Crimes to take,
And cruel Death to undergo,
That Thou from Death us free might make?

Let thine own Goodness to Thee bend,
That thou our Sins may'st put to Flight;
Spare us, and as our Wishes tend,
O satisfy us with Thy Sight.

May'st Thou our joyful Pleasures be,
Who shall be our expected Gain,
And let our Glory be in Thee,
While any Ages shall remain.

316

xviii. Hymn for Whitsunday.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Creator, Holy Ghost, descend,
Visit our Minds with thy bright Flame,
And thy celestial Grace extend,
To fill the Hearts which Thou didst frame:

Who Paraclete art said to be,
Gift which the highest God bestows,
Fountain of Life, Fire, Charity,
Oyntment whence Ghostly Blessing flows.

Thy seven-fold Grace Thou down dost send,
Of God's right Hand Thou finger art,
Thou by the Father promised
Unto our Mouths dost Speech impart.

In our dull Senses kindle Light;
Infuse thy Love into our Hearts,
Reforming with perpetual Light
Th' Infirmities of fleshly Parts.

Far from our Dwelling drive our Foe,
And quickly Peace unto us bring;
Be thou our Guide, before to go,
That we may shun each hurtful Thing.

Be pleased to instruct our Mind,
To know the Father and the Son,
The Spirit who them both dost bind,
Let us believe while Ages run.

To God the Father Glory great,
And to the Son who from the dead
Arose, and to the Paraclete,
Beyond all Time imagined.

317

xix. On the Transfiguration of our Lord, the Sixth of August; A Hymn.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

All you that seek Christ, let your Sight
Up to the Height directed be,
For there you may the Sign most bright
Of everlasting Glory see.

A radiant Light we there behold,
Endless, unbounded, lofty, high;
Than Heaven or that rude Heap more old,
Wherein the World confus'd did lye.

The Gentiles this great Prince embrace;
The Jews obey this King's Command,
Promis'd to Abraham and his race
A Blessing while the World shall stand.

By Mouths of Prophets free from Lyes,
Who seal the Witness which they bear,
His Father bidding testifies
That we should Him believe and hear.

Glory, O Lord, be given to Thee,
Who hast appear'd upon this Day;
And glory to the Father be,
And to the Holy Ghost for ay.

318

xx. On the Feast of St. Michael the Arch-Angel.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

To Thee, O Christ, Thy Father's Light,
Life, Vertue, which our Heart inspires,
In Presence of thine Angels bright,
We sing with Voice and with Desires:
Our selves we mutually invite
To Melody with answering Quires.
With Reverence we these Souldiers praise,
Who near the heavenly Throne abide,
And chiefly him whom God doth raise
His strong Celestial Host to guide,
Michael, who by his Power dismays,
And beateth down the Devils pride.

327

V. TO THE READER.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

No cankring Envy, Malice, nor Despite
Stirr'd vp these men so eagerly to flyte,
But generous Emulation; so in Playes
Best actors flyte and raile, and thousand wayes
Delight the itching Eare; So wanton Curres
Walk'd with the gingling of a Courteours spurres,
Barke all the night, and never seeke to bite:
Such bravery these verses mov'd to write,
Would all that now doe flyte would flyte like those,
And Lawes were made that none durst flyte in prose;
How calme were then the world? perhaps this Law
Might make some madding wives to stand in aw,
And not in filthy Prose out-roare their men:
But read these Roundelayes to them till then.
Flyting no reason hath, and at this tyme
Heere it not stands by Reason, but by Ryme;
Anger t'asswage, make Melancholy lesse,
This flyting first was wrote, now tholes the Presse.
Who will not rest content with this Epistle,
Let him sit downe and flyt, or stand or whistle.

University of Virginia Library

Poems of Doubtful Authenticity.

I.

VIL: DRUMMONDS LINES ONE THE BISCHOPES: 14 APPRYLL 1638.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

II. FOR THE KINGE.

Seinge.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Heiringe.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Taistinge.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Smellinge.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Feillinge.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Epiloge.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[And nou, grate God, I humbley pray]

III. HYMNS.

i. Hymn.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Him whom the Earth, the Sea, and Sky]

ii. An Evening Hymn.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

iii. Complaint of the Blessed Virgin.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

iv. Hymn upon the Nativity.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

v. Hymn upon the Innocents.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

vi. Dedication of a Church.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

vii. Hymn.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Jesv, our Prayers with Mildness hear]

viii. Hymn.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

[Benign Creator of the Stars]

ix. Hymn for Sunday.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

x. Hymn for Monday.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xi. Hymn for Tuesday.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xii. Hymn for Wednesday.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xiii. Hymn for Thursday.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xiv. Hymn for Friday.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xv. Hymn for Saturday.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xvi. Upon the Sundays in Lent.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Hymn.

xvii. On the Ascension Day.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xviii. Hymn for Whitsunday.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xix. On the Transfiguration of our Lord, the Sixth of August; A Hymn.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xx. On the Feast of St. Michael the Arch-Angel.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

V.

TO THE READER.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

VIL: DRUMMONDS LINES ONE THE BISCHOPES: 14 APPRYLL 1638.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Seinge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Heiringe.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Taistinge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Smellinge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Feillinge.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Epiloge.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

i. Hymn.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

ii. An Evening Hymn.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

iii. Complaint of the Blessed Virgin.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

iv. Hymn upon the Nativity.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

v. Hymn upon the Innocents.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

vi. Dedication of a Church.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

vii. Hymn.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

viii. Hymn.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

ix. Hymn for Sunday.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

x. Hymn for Monday.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xi. Hymn for Tuesday.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xii. Hymn for Wednesday.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xiii. Hymn for Thursday.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xiv. Hymn for Friday.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xv. Hymn for Saturday.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xvi. Upon the Sundays in Lent.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xvii. On the Ascension Day.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xviii. Hymn for Whitsunday.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xix. On the Transfiguration of our Lord, the Sixth of August; A Hymn.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

xx. On the Feast of St. Michael the Arch-Angel.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

TO THE READER.
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The attribution of this poem is questionable.