Poem by Thomas Chatterton

The Accounte of W. Canynges Feast

THOROWE the halle the belle han sounde;
Byelecoyle doe the Grave beseeme;
The ealdermenne doe sytte arounde,
Ande snoffelle oppe the cheorte steeme.
Lyche asses wylde ynne desarte waste
Swotelye the morneynge ayre doe taste.
Syke keene theie ate; the minitrels plaie,
The dynne of angelles doe theie keepe;
Heie stylle the guestes ha ne to saie,
Butte nodde yer thankes ande falle aslape.
Thus echone daie bee I to deene,
Gyf Rowley, Iscamm, or Tyb. Gorges be ne seene. 

1. Songe to Aella, Lorde of the Castel of Brystowe Ynne Daies of Yore
2. Eclogue the First
3. Eclogue the Second
4. Englysh Metamorphosis
5. The Death of Nicou

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