Osbert Parsley

Osberto Parsley

Musicae Scientissimo

Ei quondam Consciati

Musici posuerunt Anno 1585

                Here lies the Man whose Name in Spight of Death,

                Renowned lives by Blast of Golden Fame:

                Whose Harmony survives his vital Breath,

                Whose Skill no Pride did spot whose Life no Blame.

                Whose low Estate was blest with quiet Mind:

                As our sweet Cords with Discords mixed be:

                Whose life in Seventy and Four Years entwind -

                As falleth mellowed Apple from the Tree.

                Whose Deeds were Rules whose Words were Verity,

                Who here a Singing-man did spend his Days.

                Full Fifty Years in our Church Melody

                His Memory shines bright whom thus we praise.

A memorial plaque in Norwich Cathedral

Note that if he sang there "full Fifty Years" he must have experienced Henry VIII's Reformation, Edward VI's Protestantism, Mary's Catholicism and the Elizabethan Settlement.

Wordsworth's dedication

“The Prelude” (1805 text), Book 4, lines 315-345

The episode described here took place during Wordsworth’s vacation from St John’s College, Cambridge, when he was staying at Hawkshead with Anne Tyson. As a child he had boarded with her while at Hawkshead school. The “dear Friend” to whom these lines are addressed was Coleridge.

The memory of one particular hour

Doth here rise up against me. In a throng,

A festal company of Maids and Youths,

Old Men and Matrons staid, promiscuous rout,

A medley of all tempers, I had pass’d

The night in dancing, gaiety and mirth;

With din of instruments, and shuffling feet,

And glancing forms, and tapers glittering,

And unaim’d prattle flying up and down,

Spirits upon the stretch, and here and there

Slight shocks of young love-liking interspersed,

That mounted up like joy into the head,

And tingled through the veins. Ere we retired,

The cock had crow’d, the sky was bright with day.

Two miles I had to walk along the fields

Before I reached my home. Magnificent

The morning was, a memorable pomp,

More glorious than I ever had beheld.

The Sea was laughing at a distance; all

The solid Mountains were as bright as clouds,

Grain-tinctured, drench’d in empyrean light;

And, in the meadows and the lower grounds,

Was all the sweetness of a common dawn,

Dews, vapours, and the melody of birds,

And Labourers going forth into the fields.

- Ah! Need I say, dear Friend, that to the brim

My heart was full; I made no vows, but vows

Were then made for me; bond unknown to me

Was given, that I should be, else sinning greatly,

A dedicated Spirit. On I walk’d

In blessedness, which even yet remains.