[From Manx Note Book #8 p159]

Samuel RutterOF SAMUEL RUTTER D.D. ARCHDEACON, AND AFTERWARDS BISHOP OF SODOR AND MANN, BUT LITTLE IS KNOWN. His portrait, which we are enabled to publish by kind permission of the Earl of Derby, represents him as having a grave and pleasing countenance. He is said to have been the grandson of John Rutter, miller on the Derby estate at Burscough, in Lancashire, and to have been descended from the Rutters of Kingsley, a Cheshire family. " He was probably sent by the family his forefathers served to Westminster school," and" elected thence in 1623 to Christ Church, Oxford."1 In 1646 he was appointed Archdeacon and Rector of Andreas, but he does not appear to have ever resided in that parish. He was James the seventh Earl of Derby's domestic chaplain and confidential friend, and, being tutor to his eldest son, was constantly with the family. He seems also to have played the part of court poet, as in the Library at Knowsley, there is a MS. entitled "A Choice Collection of Songs composed by Archdeacon Ryter (afterwards Bishop of Sodor and Mann), for the amusement and diversion of the Right Hon. James Earl of Derby, during his retreat into his Island of Mann, in the time of the Oliverian usurpation." These songs, four in number, are not compositions of any great merit, but probably served their end, which was, doubtless, to amuse the boisterous cavaliers who formed the Earl's retinue. The first of them is a lament " On the direful effects of the Rebellion,"2 the other three, " A Song in praise of Ale,"3 "The Little Quiet Nation," – and " Mellancolly Drown'd in a Glass of Eubonia," (see following ballad), are Bacchanalian in character; the last in particular would have come more appropriately from the pen of a Sheridan than from that of a reverend cleric. It is not positively known by whom the translations into Manx were made, though they are attributed to Rutter, and appear in the same MS. He also wrote a poem "To the Glorious Memory of the Blessed Martyr James, Earle of Derby," 4 and an amusing piece called " The Attorney Bated," originally published among the Townley papers and reprinted by the Manx Society.5 His literary labours were not confined to poetry, as we find Seacome, the Derby historian, acknowledging that "to his assistance I am greatly obliged for his collections, and memoirs made use of in my present history of the noble house of Stanley, but especially in that ever-memorable siege of Lathom; the defence whereof he had a large share in."It is evident that the Earl was greatly attached to him; in one of his letters to his eldest son, Lord Strange, he writes "he is a man for whom both you and I may thank God," and in his last letter to his children " Love the Archdeacon, he will give you good precepts." He was at Lathom House during the second siege, and was one of the Commissioners appointed to treat concerning the surrender of Castle Rushen to the Parliament, on this latter occasion, according to a contemporary newspaper, he proved to be " a man of a very timorous spirit." Till the restoration he remained with the Countess at Knowsley and in London. In November,1660, he was appointed a prebendary of Lichfield, and on the 1st of September, 1661, he arrived in the Isle of Mann, being installed Bishop on the 8th of October.7 He only survived his installation six months, being interred in the centre of St. Germain's Cathedral on the 30th of May, 1662.

1: "Manx Note Book," Vol. I., pp. 24-25.
2: Manx Society, Vol. XVI., pp.
3: Stanley Papers, Part II., p. 201. Chetham Society.
4: "Manx Note Book," Vol. I., pp.
5: Stanley Papers, Part III., Vol. II., p. 386.
6: Manx Society, Vol. XVI., pp.
7: Notes on Malew Register, " Manx Note Book," pp.
ii 73, 181.



NY bee-jee groamagh arragh, cur-jee kiarail er gooyll,
Eh ta smooinaght er mairagh te cheau laa mie er shooyll,
Cha vel eh agh lhome, naght yeean trot ny keim
Ta giu as nagh ceau laghyn y noal.

Te dooinney dangeyragh dy akin 'sy cheer ta shin nish ayn,
Tra ta naboonyn troggal y cabbane, ta boirit still ayns e chione,
As ooilley yn vea shoh goaill doot ny choud bio
As dy ntaase y argid ro-ghowin.

She ta'n 'n irrinagh 's creeney ta 'n irree choud as tatn cheeaght hraaue,
Lhig da ny boddagh dy moghey girree ayn doccar myr tract chiu,
Choud's ta famlagh 'sy traie bee ayns yn oai
Ver orrin arrane y ghoaill daue.

Tra hug yn oayrn hooin nee vaikyn vagher shin ooashley glen chaart ny kione,
Eisht ven y thie jeagh nagh daghey dhyt rouyr jeh shen ychaart ayn,
Veih 'n ooashley carrane ta cheet cooilleen 'n oll vane,
As chur er sleih creeney ny goan.

Nish va 'n 'sy thie lhieen as y churn dooin, as lhig da dty linin dooin,
Son shee shen nee nyn dooin dooin dy chur chreenaght ayns ny goan;
Te ooashley da ree, ta ooashley da ree
Dy chur er y kione lhied y crooin.

CAST away care and sorrow, the cankerworm of the brain.
For he that cares for to-morrow has spent a good day in vain,
And he's but an ass, and he's but an ass,
That drinks not, and drinks not again.

Wee count him a dangerous fellow, as any that lives in ye state,
Who when his neighbours are mellow doth troble an addle pate,
With thinking too much, with thinking too much,
And all about living too late.

But he's the best husband that whistles whilst the merry plowe doth go,
Let the fool reap his Tares and Thistles, which in sadness he doth sowe,
We'l sing whilst the plowe, we'l sing whilst the plowe,
Is getting us Barley below.

And when it come up anon after, we give it a gentle touch,
Of the purest purest watter, but faith it must not be too much,
For watter's the thing, for watter's the thing
Makes all fools even such.

Let our Hostess fill up the flaggon, and let her good ail be brown,
And let it spits fire like a draggon, till our heads be the wisest in town,
Tis a life for a King, 'tis a life for a King
To wear such another crown.

+ Spelling as in the original.

As the English version is a mere paraphrase of the Manx, Mr. R. W. Heaton has made a literal translation which we append:–


BE gloomy no longer, cast your cares aside,
He, who thinks on the morrow, has wasted a day,
For he's but a sorry, chicken-hearted knave,
Who drinks and recks aught of the time.
He's a dangerous man to behold in the land wherein eve dwell,
Who, while his neighbours are building their houses, is still addle headed,
Who throughout his life keeps himself in a constant worry,
As to how he shall raise his means to affluence.
He is wise and thoughtful, who rises when the ploughman starts his toil,
Let the lazy lout stifle himself with his unwilling labour,
As long as the sea-weed lies upon the shore
Our verse shall celebrate such men as these.
When we see the barley springing up in the fields, we sigh for a glass of good liquor,
For our hostess of the inn watches that no one gets more than his share;
Pale death awaits the drunken sot, as a punishment for his intemperance,
And it is through this vice that wise men are so few.
Now we had in the house a net and a churn, and may they long be ours !
For we are free to put wisdom into our words,
It is an honour for the king, it is an honour for the king,
To wear on his head such a crown.


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