_Britonum Skeltonida vatem_ _Hæc cecinisse licet_ _Ficta sub imagine texta._ _Cujus eras[415] volucris,_ _Præstanti corpore virgo:_ _Candida Nais erat,_ 840 _Formosior ista Joanna est;_ _Docta Corinna fuit,_ _Sed magis ista sapit._ _Bien men souient._ THE COMMENDACIONS. _Beati im ma cu la ti in via,_ _O gloriosa fœmina!_ Now myne hole imaginacion And studyous medytacion Is to take this commendacyon In this consyderacion; 850 And vnder pacyent tolleracyon Of that most goodly[416] mayd That _Placebo_ hath sayd, And for her sparow prayd In lamentable wyse, Now wyll I enterpryse, Thorow the grace dyuyne Of the Muses nyne, Her beautye to commende, If Arethusa wyll send 860 Me enfluence to endyte, And with my pen to wryte; If Apollo wyll promyse Melodyously it to[417] deuyse His tunable harpe stryngges With armony that synges Of princes and of kynges And of all pleasaunt thynges, Of lust and of delyght, Thorow his godly myght; 870 To whom be the laude ascrybed That my pen hath enbybed With the aureat droppes, As verely my hope is, Of Thagus, that golden flod, That passeth all[418] erthly good; And as that flode doth pas Al floodes that euer was With his golden sandes, Who so that vnderstandes 880 Cosmography, and the stremys And the floodes in straunge remes, Ryght so she doth excede All other of whom we rede, Whose fame by me shall sprede Into Perce and Mede, From Brytons Albion To[419] the Towre of Babilon. I trust it is no shame, And no man wyll me blame, 890 Though I regester her name In the courte of Fame; For this most goodly floure, This blossome of fresshe coulour, So Jupiter me socour, She floryssheth new and new In bewte and vertew: _Hac claritate gemina_ _O gloriosa fœmina,_ _Retribue servo tuo, vivifica me!_ 900 _Labia mea laudabunt te._ But enforsed am I Openly to askry, And to make an[420] outcri Against odyous Enui, That euermore wil ly, And say cursedly; With his ledder ey, And chekes dry; With vysage wan, 910 As swarte[421] as tan; His bones crake, Leane as a rake; His gummes rusty Are full vnlusty; Hys herte withall Bytter as gall; His lyuer, his longe[422] With anger is wronge; His serpentes tonge 920 That many one hath stonge; He frowneth euer; He laugheth neuer, Euen nor morow, But other mennes sorow Causeth him to gryn And reioyce therin; No slepe can him catch, But euer doth watch,