542 
Copy of a Letter from ohn Clufey to Mr. 
Cromwell in relation to a Baftard Daugh- 
ter of Cardinal W olfey’s, in the Nunnery 
of Shaftefoury.—Fron the Colleion re- 
lative tothe Carainal in the Temple 
Library. 4 
‘« Rygthe Hontable, 
«© Aft. moft humyll comendacyons 1 
lykewyce befuche you, that the contents 
of this my fymple lett. may be fecret ; 
and that for as myche as I have grete 
eaufe to goo home, I befuche your good 
Maitfhippe to comand Mr. Herytag to 
give atehd«.s opon your Maffthippe for 
_ the knowlege off youre plefure in the feyd 
fecrete mat. which ys this.. My Lord 
Cardinall caufyd me to put a yong gen- 
tyli homon to the monyftery & nulry off 
Shayfitfbary, and there to be pveflyd & 
wold hur to be namyd my doyther, and 
the troythe ys flew wos his dowythter, & 
Original Poetry. 
[ May i, 
now by yor vifitacyon the hathe comawy- 
ment to depte and knowethe not whether 5 
wherefore I humely befuche youre Maf- 
Cthippe to dyre&t yo' letter to the Abbas. 
there, that fhe may there cotynu at heir 
full age to be pteffed.—W‘owte dowyte 
fhe is other xxiiij full, or fhalbe at fhuche 
tyme of the here as fhe was boren, whiche 
was aboyte Myclelmas.—In this your do- 
ynge yout Maft thippe fhall do a verye 
charytable ded, and alfo bynd hur & me 
todo you fuch syvyce as lyythe in oure 
‘lytell powers, as knowythe oure Lord 
God, whom I humely befuche pfperyoufly 
and longetop{ve you.. -Your Orator, 
' JoHN CLusEY. 
Yo the Rygthe Honorabell, and his mof? 
efpeciall good Mr. Maft. Cromwell, 
Secretary to cure Sour. aud Lord the 
Kynge. 
ORIGINAL POETRY. 
eS 
ELEGY, in remembrance of the late xEV- 
HENRY MOORE; of LISKEARD, Author 
of Poems, edited by Dr. Aikin. 
Seine bids me now my annual walk re- 
peat, 
Q’er hills that frown on Tamar’s placid 
wave, 
With Health and Hepe to vifit Moore’s re- 
treates +, 
But Moore, alas! is filent in the grave. 
When laft we met within his lowly cel; 
«¢ Mine is the age of man’—with {miles he 
faid ; 
‘Then added, witha mournful grace—** Fare- 
well !”” 
Asone who foon muft flumber with the 
dead. 
Death clofed the evening of his tranquil 
days 5 
But dona his grave the Mufes fcatter 
flowers— 
lowers, which he culled—and crown his urn 
with bays— 
- Bays not to fade till Time’s expiring hours. 
Obfcure, unknown, fave to a favour’d few, 
In private fcenes he fhun’d the giddy 
throng: 
Cne-wliile from Wifdom’s holy fount the 
drew 3 
Then foothed his learned leifure with a 
fong. 
Unfeen the ftreamlet cheers the ‘vocal vale,” 
Though rocks and woods repeat its mourn- 
ing found: 
Unfeen the fkylark, pouring forth his tale © 
Above the clouds, his neft builds on the 
ground. 
Immortal Moore! thy fongs their fweets 
diftil 
In meafures folemn as the facred lay 
Of ancient bards, who fang of Zion’s hill, 
Or his,* whofe numbers Eden’s blooms dife 
play. 
Like him to fing of chaos and of night ; 
Of unborn nature, and of love-divine ; 
Of funs and ftars and fyftems, fprung to light; 
Of earth and opening Paradife—’tis thine, 
Religion’s fteep afcent, thy darling theme, 
O’er which on earth thy fteady footiteps 
trod— 
Mounts up to Heaven itfelf —no fabled 
dream, } 
But Virtue’s throne,the palace of thy God! 
Farewell ! in peace and hope of glory reft, 
Till Morning break o’er Death’s departing 
gloom, 5 
And join,thee to thy ‘* Brethren of the 
Bleft, ”’ 
On fairer realms to fing beyond the tomb ! 
Taviffock, ' W.Evans. 
April, 1803. 
* Milton. 
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