I haue of other language seen, And you at full may reed Fine verses trimly wrought, And coutcht in comly sort; But neuer I nor you, I troe, In sentence plaine and short Did yet beholde with eye, In any forraine tonge, A higher verse, a staetly[er] style, That may be read or song, Than is this daye indeede Our Englishe verse and ryme, The grace wherof doth touch yᵉ gods, And reatch the cloudes somtime. Thorow earth and waters deepe The pen by skill doth passe, And featly nyps the worldes abuse, And shoes vs in a glasse The vertu and the vice Of eury wyght alyue: The hony combe that bee doth make Is not so sweete in hyue As are the golden leues That drops from poets head, Which doth surmount our common talke As farre as dros doth lead: The flowre is sifted cleane, The bran is cast aside, And so good corne is knowen from chaffe, And each fine graine is spide. Peers Plowman was full plaine, And Chausers spreet was great; Earle Surry had a goodly vayne; Lord Vaus the marke did beat, And Phaer did hit the pricke In thinges he did translate, And Edwards had a special gift; And diuers men of late Hath helpt our Englishe toung, That first was baes and brute:— Ohe, shall I leaue out Skeltons name, The blossome of my frute, The tree wheron indeed My branchis all might groe? Nay, Skelton wore the lawrell wreath, And past in schoels, ye knoe; A poet for his arte, Whoes iudgment suer was hie, And had great practies of the pen, His works they will not lie; His terms to taunts did lean, His talke was as he wraet, Full quick of witte, right sharp of words, And skilfull of the staet; Of reason riep and good, And to the haetfull mynd, That did disdain his doings still, A skornar of his kynd; Most pleasant euery way, As poets ought to be, And seldom out of princis grace, And great with eche degre. Thus haue you heard at full What Skelton was indeed; A further knowledge shall you haue, If you his bookes do reed. I haue of meer good will Theas verses written heer, To honour vertue as I ought, And make his fame apeer, That whan the garland gay Of lawrel leaues but laet: Small is my pain, great is his prayes, That thus sutch honour gaet. _Finis quod Churchyarde._” [146] _slouth_] Old ed. “sloulth.” [147] _fraes_] i. e. phrase.—In the _Muses Library_, 1737, p. 138, this word is altered to “bayes.” From _Johannis Parkhvrsti Ludicra siue Epigrammata Juuenilia_. 1573, 4to. “De Skeltono vate & sacerdote.