his own day his fame stood high.
Camden did not hesitate to couple his name with the names of Spenser and
Sidney; but modern critics have persistently neglected him. The present
anthology contains a large number of his best poems; and I venture to
hope that my attempt to recall attention to the claims of this true poet
will not be fruitless.

There is much excellent verse hidden away in the Song-books of Robert
Jones, a famous performer on the lute. Between 1601 and 1611 Jones
issued six musical works. Two of these--"The First Set of Madrigals,"
1607, and "The Muses' Garden for Delight," 1611,--I have unfortunately
not been able to see, as I have not yet succeeded in discovering their
present resting-place. Of "Ultimum Vale, or the Third Book of Airs"
[1608], only one copy is known. It formerly belonged to Rimbault, and is
now preserved in the library of the Royal College of Music. The other
publications of Jones are of the highest rarity. By turns the songs are
grave and gay. On one page is the warning to Love--

"Little boy, pretty knave, hence, I beseech you!
For if you hit me, knave, in faith I'll breech you." (p. 72.)

On another we read "Love winged my hopes and taught me how to fly," (p.
73); but the vain hopes, seeking to woo the sun's fair light, were
scorched with fire and drown'd in woe,

"And none but Love their woeful hap did rue,
For Love did know that their desires were true;
Though Fate frowned.
And now drowned
They in sorrow dwell,
It was the purest light of heaven for whose fair love they fell."

The last line is superb.

I have drawn freely from the madrigals of Weelkes, Morley, Farmer,
Wilbye and others. Thomas Ford's "Music of Sundry Kinds," 1607, has
yielded some very choice verse; and Francis Pilkington's collections
have not been consulted in vain. From John Attye's "First Book of Airs,"
1622, I have selected one song, (p. 94), only one,--warm and tender and
delicious. Some pleasant verses have been drawn from the rare song-books
of William Corkine; and Thomas Vautor's "Songs of Divers Airs and
Natures," 1619, have supplied some quaint snatches, notably the address
to the owl, (p. 116) "Sweet Suffolk owl, so trimly dight." I have
purposely refrained from giving many humorous ditties. Had I been
otherwise minded there was plenty of material to my hand in the
rollicking rounds and catches of Ravenscroft's admirable co