This _Michael Blaunpayn_, otherwise sirnamed the _Cornish_ Poet, or the
Rymer, was born in _Cornwall_, and bred in _Oxford_ and _Paris_, where
he attained to a good proficiency in Learning, being of great fame and
estimation in his time, out of whose Rymes for merry _England_ as
_Cambden_ calls them, he quotes several passages in that most excellent
Book of his _Remains_. It hapned one _Henry_ of _Normandy_, chief Poet
to our _Henry_ the Third, had traduced _Cornwall_, as an inconsiderable
Country, cast out by Nature in contempt into a corner of the land. Our
_Michael_ could not endure this Affront, but, full of Poetical fury,
falls upon the Libeller; take a tast (little thereof will go far) of
his strains.

_Non opus est ut opus numere quibus est opulenta,
Et per quas inopes sustentat non ope lenta,
Piscibus & stanno nusquam tam fertilis ora_.

We need not number up her wealthy store,
Wherewith this helpful Lands relieves her poor,
No Sea so full of Filh, of Tin, no shore.

Then, in a triumphant manner, he concludeth all with this Exhortation
to his Countrymen:

_Quid nos deterret? si firmiter in pede stemus,
Fraus ni nos superat, nihil est quod non superemus._

What should us fright, if firmly we do stand?
Bar fraud, and then no force can us command.