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Poem by Thomas Chatterton


On Happienesse


MAIE Selynesse on erthes boundes bee hadde?
Maie yt adyghte yn human shape bee founde?
Wote yee, ytt was wyth Edin's bower bestadde,
Or quite eraced from the scaunce-layd grounde,
Whan from the secret fontes the waterres dyd abounde?
Does yt agrosed shun the bodyed waulke,
Lyve to ytself and to yttes ecchoe taulke?
All hayle, Contente, thou mayde of turtle-eyne,
As thie behoulders thynke thou arte iwreene,
To ope the dore to Selynesse ys thyne,
And Chrystis glorie doth upponne thee sheene.
Doer of the foule thynge ne hath thee seene;
In caves, ynn wodes, ynn woe, and dole distresse,
Whoere hath thee hath gotten Selynesse. 



Thomas Chatterton


Thomas Chatterton's other poems:
  1. Chorus from Goddwyn
  2. On the Last Epiphany (Or Christ Coming to Judgment)
  3. Eclogue the First
  4. Songe to Aella, Lorde of the Castel of Brystowe Ynne Daies of Yore
  5. Narva and Mored


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