The Plagues of Northomberland.

<seg n="1" rend="left">The Plagues of Northomberland.</seg> <lb/> <seg n="2" rend="left">To the tune of Appelles.</seg>

WHen that the Moone, in Northomberland, After the chaynge, in age well conne, Did rise with force, then to withstande, The lyght and bright beames of the Sonne The sorowfull dolers soone began, Through Percies pryde to many a man. But then anone the Westmere Bull, Behelde the rysinge of this Moone, Thinking that shee had byn at full, He hastyd then anone full soone, With horse, and Armes, and all his might, From parfect daye, to uncertaine lyght. When they in one, consent were pyght, With them was many an ignorant man, The Romyshe Lawes, they wold redyght Through councell of some blind Syr John, Who never knewe godes veryte, But to Rebellion then dyd agree. For if they would of gods word knowen, Longe .xxx. yeres they have had tyme, Rebellion then had not byn sowen, To brynge ther countre in such cryme, Their poyson now, all men may see, That under Suger longe did lie. What myschyfe movid the Persies hart, This enterpryse to take in hand, This for to playe a Rebelles parte, In raisinge up Northomberland, But looke what seede, by hym is sowen, With sharp sythes downe it was soone mowen. That countre is, in full sore plyght, That doth agaynst their Prynce contend, Seeking their owne dreames to redyght, The Popes precepts for to defend, Lyke brutyshe perverst ignorant men, That seekes before a lawe to ren. This venym longe a breedinge was Which in the Persies breste did growe, The Bull in bellinge did not ceasse, Till that the poyson oute did flowe So farr abroade the streames did ronne, That backe agayne cold not retourne. This hatefull poyson longe was hyde, Under the cloake of amytie, The outward Treasone was not spyde, But coverid with all courtesie, Their close unlawfull conspiracion, Hath brought them to great dysolacion.

The hope unsure was transytorye, The which was in that clowdy Moone, Her false eclypes with all the glorye, Her joye unstable was endid soone Her sudden chaynge now tells us all, That Suger sweet was blent with Gall. What state now may hymselfe assure, Longe here to lyve in quyetnes, What worldely joye maye here indure, In those where is no stablenes, Wher Lords, and Yerles, in welth doth flowe From their hye state must fall downe lowe. Now by their fall learne to be wyse, Both hye and lowe in eche degree, Let no false lyght deceave your eyes, As it hath done of late you see. The false beames of the glystringe Moone, Now many a man it hath undoone. For in the north she did shine longe, But now eclypsyd is her lyght, The Westmere Bull that held so stronge, Hee is deprevyd of his myght, For many tongs of them will tell, How these to Yerles false did Rebell. And many a man more as I heare, That with these Rebelles did take part, Which cannot thinke themselves now cleare That in brest beares a doble hart, But as you have begonne to brewe, So are you found Rebelles untrue. The countre cleane you have undone, The Lord graunt ther some better staye, Or els will many a mothers sonne, For this cursse you another daye, You leave your wyves and childrene deare, Lamentinge in most wofull cheare. Now let us praye as we are bound, All for our Queenes hyghe majeste, That shee her enemies may confound, And all that to Rebelles agre, And plant true men up in their place, The Lord from heaven now gyve her grace.

Finis. quod John Barker. Imprinted at London in Fleetestreate be neath the Conduyt, at the signe of saint, John Evangelist, by Thomas Colwell.