FOOTNOTES:
[941] [harass.]
[942] [evil.]
[943] [saluted.]
[944] James Douglas, Earl of Morton, elected regent of Scotland November 24, 1572.
[945] Of one of the English marches. Lord Hunsden.
[946] [contend.]
[947] [sworn in writing.]
[948] [money for delivering you up.]
[949] Of the Earl of Morton, the Regent.
[950] i. e. Lake of Leven, which hath communication with the sea.
[951] At that time in the hands of the opposite faction.
[952] [fortune.]
[953] [rends.]
[954] [hollow.]
[955] The Lord Warden of the East marches.
[956] [ill and injury.]
[957] Governor of Berwick.
[958] [taught.]
[959] [austere.]
[960] Warden of the Middle-march.
[961] [an outride or expedition.]
[962] [promised.]
[963] [twisted.]
[964] i. e. Where I was. An ancient idiom.
[965] [fetched.]
[966] There is no navigable stream between Lough-Leven and the sea: but a ballad-maker is not obliged to understand geography.
[967] [glad.]
[968] [chance.]
[969] [strong.]
[970] [contend.]
[971] Ver. 224. Fol. MS. reads land, and has not the following stanza.
V.
MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS.
This excellent philosophical song appears to have been famous in the sixteenth century. It is quoted by Ben Jonson in his play of Every Man out of his Humour, first acted in 1599, act i. sc. 1, where an impatient person says—
"I am no such pil'd cynique to believe
That beggery is the onely happinesse,
Or, with a number of these patient fooles,
To sing, 'My minde to me a kingdome is,'
When the lanke hungrie belly barkes for foode."
It is here chiefly printed from a thin quarto Music book, intitled, "Psalmes, Sonets, and Songs of sadnes and pietie, made into Musicke of five parts: &c. By William Byrd, one of the Gent. of the Queenes Majesties honorable Chappell.—Printed by Thomas East, &c." 4to. no date: but Ames in his Typog. has mentioned another edit. of the same book, dated 1588, which I take to have been later than this.
Some improvements and an additional stanza (sc. the 5th), were had from two other ancient copies; one of them in black letter in the Pepys Collection, thus inscribed, "A sweet and pleasant sonet, intitled, 'My Minde to me a Kingdom is.' To the tune of, In Crete, &c."
Some of the stanzas in this poem were printed by Byrd separate from the rest: they are here given in what seemed the most natural order.
[The longest and apparently earliest version of this favourite poem is signed "E. Dier," in MS. Rawl. Poet. 85, fol. 17 in the Bodleian Library, and Dr. Hannah[972] attributes it to Sir Edward Dyer, the friend of Spenser and Sidney, whose little pieces were chiefly printed in England's Helicon. Sir Edward Dyer, of Sharpham Park, Somersetshire, was born about the year 1540. He was educated at Oxford, and afterwards was employed in several embassies. On the death of Sir John Wolley he was made Chancellor of the Order of the Garter, and at the same time knighted. He was an alchemist and dupe of Dr. Dee and Edward Kelly. Sir Egerton Brydges quotes from Aubrey the statement that he had four thousand pounds a year, and had four-score thousand pounds left to him, which he wasted almost all, but Sir Egerton considers the sums almost incredible for the time.
In "Posthumi or Sylvesters Remains, revived out of the ashes of that silver-tongued translatour and divine Poet Laureat," at the end of the translation of the Divine Weekes of Du Bartas, 1641, there is the following parody of this favourite poem:
"A Contented Minde.
"I waigh not Fortunes frowne or smile,
I joy not much in earthly joyes,
I seeke not state, I reake not stile,
I am not fond of fancies Toyes:
I rest so pleased with what I have,
I wish no more, no more I crave.
"I quake not at the Thunders crack,
I tremble not at noise of warre,
I swound not at the newes of wrack,
I shrink not at a Blazing Starre;
I feare not losse, I hope not gaine;
I envie none, I none disdaine.
"I see ambition never pleas'd,
I see some Tantals starv'd in store,
I see golds dropsie seldome eas'd,
I see even Midas gape for more:
I neither want, nor yet abound,
Enough's a feast, content is crown'd.
"I faine not friendship where I hate,
I fawne not on the great (in show)
I prize, I praise a meane estate,
Neither too lofty nor too low:
This, this is all my choice, my cheere,
A minde content, a conscience cleere.">[
My minde to me a kingdome is;
Such perfect joy therein I finde
As farre exceeds all earthly blisse,
That God or Nature hath assignde:
Though much I want, that most would have,5
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
Content I live, this is my stay;
I seek no more than may suffice:
I presse to beare no haughtie sway;
Look what I lack my mind supplies.10
Loe! thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.
I see how plentie surfets oft,
And hastie clymbers soonest fall;
I see that such as sit aloft15
Mishap doth threaten most of all:
These get with toile, and keep with feare:
Such cares my mind could never beare.
No princely pompe, nor welthie store,
No force to winne the victorie,20
No wylie wit to salve a sore,
No shape to winne a lovers eye;
To none of these I yeeld as thrall,
For why my mind despiseth all.
Some have too much, yet still they crave,25
I little have, yet seek no more:
They are but poore, tho' much they have;
And I am rich with little store:
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lacke, I lend; they pine, I live.30
I laugh not at anothers losse,
I grudge not at anothers gaine;
No worldly wave my mind can tosse,
I brooke that is anothers bane:
I feare no foe, nor fawne on friend;35
I lothe not life, nor dread mine end.
I joy not in no earthly blisse;
I weigh not Cresus' welth a straw;
For care, I care not what it is;
I feare not fortunes fatall law:40
My mind is such as may not move
For beautie bright or force of love.
I wish but what I have at will;
I wander not to seeke for more,
I like the plaine, I clime no hill;45
In greatest stormes I sitte on shore,
And laugh at them that toile in vaine
To get what must be lost againe.
I kisse not where I wish to kill;
I feigne not love where most I hate;50
I breake no sleep to winne my will;
I wayte not at the mighties gate;
I scorne no poore, I feare no rich;
I feele no want, nor have too much.
The court, ne cart, I like, ne loath;55
Extreames are counted worst of all:
The golden meane betwixt them both,
Doth surest sit, and fears no fall:
This is my choyce, for why I finde,
No wealth is like a quiet minde.60
My welth is health, and perfect ease;
My conscience clere my chiefe defence:
I never seeke by brybes to please,
Nor by desert to give offence:
Thus do I live, thus will I die;65
Would all did so as well as I!