Students of versification will allow me to remark that Sir Thomas was the first English poet, so far as I know, who used the terza rima, Dante’s chief mode of rhyming:  the above is too small a fragment to show that it belongs to a poem in that manner.  It has never been popular in England, although to my mind it is the finest form of continuous rhyme in any language.  Again, we owe his friend Surrey far more for being the first to write English blank verse, whether invented by himself or not, than for any matter he has left us in poetic shape.

This period is somewhat barren of such poetry as we want.  Here is a portion of the Fifty-first Psalm, translated amongst others into English verse by John Croke, Master in Chancery, in the reign of Henry VIII.

  Open my lips first to confess
    My sin conceived inwardly;
  And my mouth after shall express
    Thy laud and praises outwardly.

  If I should offer for my sin,
    Or sacrifice do unto thee
  Of beast or fowl, I should begin
    To stir thy wrath more towards me.

  Offer we must for sacrifice
    A troubled mind with sorrow’s smart: 
  Canst thou refuse?  Nay, nor despise
    The humble and the contrite heart.

  To us of Sion that be born,
    If thou thy favour wilt renew,
  The broken sowle, the temple torn, threshold.
    The walls and all shall be made new.

  The sacrifice then shall we make
    Of justice and of pure intent;
  And all things else thou wilt well take
    That we shall offer or present.

In the works of George Gascoigne I find one poem fit for quoting here.  He is not an interesting writer, and, although his verse is very good, there is little likelihood of its ever being read more than it is now.  The date of his birth is unknown, but probably he was in his teens when Surrey was beheaded in the year 1547.  He is the only poet whose style reminds me of his, although the wherefore will hardly be evident from my quotation.  It is equally flat, but more articulate.  I need not detain my reader with remarks upon him.  The fact is, I am glad to have something, if not “a cart-load of wholesome instructions,” to cast into this Slough of Despond, should it be only to see it vanish.  The poem is called

  GASCOIGNE’S GOOD MORROW.

  You that have spent the silent night
    In sleep and quiet rest,
  And joy to see the cheerful light
    That riseth in the east;
  Now clear your voice, now cheer your heart;
    Come help me now to sing;
  Each willing wight come bear a part,
    To praise the heavenly King.

  And you whom care in prison keeps,
    Or sickness doth suppress,
  Or secret sorrow breaks your sleeps,
    Or dolours do distress;
  Yet bear a part in doleful wise;
    Yea, think it good accord,
  And acceptable sacrifice,
    Each sprite to praise the Lord.