THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
Hbbotsforfc Series
of tbe
Scottisb poets
Edited by GEORGE EYRE-TODD
MEDIEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY
KING JAMES THE FIRST ROBERT HENRYSON WILLIAM DUNBAR GAVIN DOUGLAS
LONDON AND EDINBURGH SANDS & COMPANY
College Library
PR
NOTE.
THE mediaeval poetry of Scotland, equally with the earliest Scottish poetry, has hitherto been all but inaccessible to the general reader. The difficulties in the way of anything like a popular study of poets such as James I., Henryson, Dunbar, and Douglas may be gathered from the fact that the works of these four, when found, are scarcely to be had together for a smaller sum than five guineas. The present volume is an attempt to overcome these difficulties, and to render available the flower of mediaeval Scottish Poetry. In all cases, excepting the more voluminous works of Gavin Douglas, the poems included are printed complete.
1 1
CONTENTS.
PACK
MEDIAEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY, 1
KING JAMES THE FIRST, 7
The Kingis Quair, . . . . . . . 25
Good Counsel, 75
ROBERT HENRYSON, 77
Robene and Makyne, 91
The Garmond of Gude Ladeis, . . . 96
The Abbay Walk, 98
The Prais of Aige, . . . . . .101
The Testament of Cresseid, 103
Prologue to the Moral Fables, . . . .126 The Taill of the Uplandis Mous, . . . .130
WILLIAM DUNBAR . . 139
The Goldyn Targe 159
The Thrissil and the Rois. 170
Bewty and the Presoneir, 177
London, 182
Be ye ane Luvar, . . . . . . • 185
To a Ladye 186
viii CONTENTS.
PAGE
Lament for the Makaris 187
The Dance of the Seviu Deidly Synnia, . . 192 Amendis to the Telyouris and Sowtaris, . . 197 The Fenyeit Freir of Tungland, . . . .199 The Ladyis Solistaris, . . . . .204
Discretioun in Asking, 206
The Petition of the Gray Horse, Anld Dun liar, . 208 Best to be Blyth, . . . . . .211
Meditatioun in Wyntir, . . . .213
GAVIN DOUGLAS ' . 21 n
Honour, . . . . . _f . . . 235
King Hart, 237
Dido's Hunting Party, ..'.... 244
Winter 249
Morning in May, ....... 256
Evening and Morning in June, .... 266
MEDIAEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY.
THE history of Scottish poetry divides itself naturally into certain strongly marked periods corresponding to periods in the political history of the country. The most interesting of these poetic periods in many respects is that in which the mediaeval spirit reached its highest expression. Almost the sole subject of the country's early muse had been the deeds of arms and heroes. After the great struggle with England there had ensued the century of the chronicler-poets, and in their hands Scottisli verse had drawn its inspiration entirely from the national patriotism. James I., however, among other advantages, brought home with him from his captivity a new poetic influence — the in- fluence of Petrarch and Chaucer. From that time, beginning with James' own kingly com- position, a fresh life seemed to be abroad in Scottish poetry. It was as if a soft summer wind had come blowing out of the south. In the heart of the north there besan to throb new
2 MEDIEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY.
pulses of thought and desire. Imagination stirred again and woke. Beside the old stem of heroic narrative sprang new poetic forms — pastoral, allegory, satire, ballad. And presently, passionate, rich and exuberant, this later poesy of the Middle Ages burst into prodigal flower.
In the fifteenth century there was passing over Europe one of those great waves of vitality which from time to time have made and marked the eras of history. A later wave of the same sort, yet unnamed, made its political mark in the Frencli Kevolution, and finding early ex- pression in Scotland in the poetry of Burns, gave birth to the romantic genius of Byron, Scott, Balzac and Goethe, and the world of modern thought. The moving event in the fifteenth century, perhaps, was the capture of Constantinople by the Turks in 1453. For hundreds of years the ancient capital of the Eastern Empire had been the chief repository of the traditions of Greek literature and civiliza- tion ; and the scattering of Byzantine scholarship over Europe upon the fall of the city largely helped to bring about that revival of thought and art which in the south took the form of the Renaissance and in the north of the Reformation.
The Scottish poets of the last decades of the fifteenth and the first of the sixteenth century cannot, it is true, be reckoned singers of the new
MEDIEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY. 3
era. There is about the work of Henryson, Dunbar and Douglas a mournful note that betokens it of an age about to pass away. They are not the prophets of a morning-tiuie, and the soul that shines in their verse has the splendid weariness of full experience, not the hot enthusiasm of an epoch's youth. It would seem, however, as if a breath of the coming life had touched the air, and to the ripeness of the older time had added a flush of colour and strength. There is reason to believe that all the great Scottish poets of the period had visited the Continent, and there, it is probable, they had felt something of the quickening of the new era that was about to dawn. At any rate it is certain that the poetry of mediaeval Scotland found its fullest and richest expression at the last, when feudalism in church and state had reached its climax, and when, before the kindling of the Reformation, the old order was about to disappear.
The political circumstances of the period in Scotland throw their own light upon the subject.
In the history of every nation which has perfected a national life there can be dis- tinguished a golden era. Athens had her time of Pericles, Rome her Augustan age, Later Italy her Renaissance, England her reign of Elizabeth. A regular likeness may be noticed
4 MEDIAE VA L SCO TT1SH POR TRY.
in the circumstances of all these periods. When a Philosophy of History, Aristotle's ambitious <lream, at last is written, the phenomena of national growth and decay may be discovered to be as regular, even to minute details, as the growth, flourish and decay of the forest oaks. It is enough -here to remark that, after an infancy of obscure development and a youth of storm and struggle, there appears always to come a national manhood of exuberant spirit and strength. A new sense of power seems to awaken. While conquest flushes the country's aims, and wealth floats in upon a flowing tide, the national genius of poetry and art breaks into splendid fire.
Scotland readied this era of her history towards the end of the fifteenth century. Out of its Celtic, Saxon, Cymric and Norman elements the nation had been born into a new existence amid the early Wars of Independence. Afterwards, for one hundred and fifty years, the Stewarts had been making their way from the position of little more than party leaders among a turbulent nobility to the actual sovereignty of the state. But towards the close of the fifteenth century the royal house had at last secured for itself unquestioned power. A firm, strong government was established under the sceptre of James IV. To its more ancient
MEDIEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY. 5
acquisitions of the Western Isles and the Isle of Man the crown had lately added the isles Orkney and Shetland. By the rapid increase of the country's maritime enterprise possibilities of wealth had recently developed to an extent before unknown. And in the eyes of Europe just then, chiefly because of the foothold she afforded for checkmating the movements of Henry VII., Scotland had assumed a position of large consideration.
These were the greater political influences at work to bring about the ripeness of the time. Some minor circumstances were perhaps not less important.
James IV. had inherited the hoarded wealth of his unfortunate father, as Augustus Ccesar inherited the wealth of the dead Julius ; and, like Augustus, the Scottish king sought by all available means to encourage the arts of civiliza- tion in his realm. James himself was no mean scholar, speaking Latin, French, German, Flemish, Italian, Spanish, and Gaelic, besides his native Scottish, and his tastes and his policy alike were towards refinement.* Never before had
* These and other particulars of James and of Scotland at that time are to be found in a letter dated London, 25th July 1498, from Don Pedro de Ayala, Spanish ambassador to Scotland, to his master, Ferdinand, contained in the Calendar of Spanish State Papers, edited by Mr. Bergenroth (1862-8). See also for a view of the reign an interesting little volume, The Days of J/nnr,s IV., arranged in extracts from contemporary writers by G. Gregory Smith, M.A., 1890.
6 MEDIAE VAL SCO TT1SH POE TR Y.
there been so brilliant a court in Scotland, and never was there to be so brilliant a court again. For the fourth time a Scottish king had married an English princess, and for the fourth time a consequent wave of civilization seemed to pass across the country.* Gay tournaments, huntings, feastings, were the pursuits of the nobility ; and amid the quickening of social life the arts that elevate and the arts that charm rose into high esteem. At the same time — as great an influence, perhaps, of another sort — the discovery of printing was introduced into Scotland during the reign of James IV.
It was in circumstances like these — the national pulse beating with its fullest life, and the fortunes of the country a rising flood — that the national poetry might be expected to put forth its brightest blossoms. This in fact was what came to pass. Fifty years earlier than the great revival of letters in the southern half of the island the golden age of her poetry arrived in Scotland.
* Malcolm Caninore had married the sister of Edgar Atheling. Alexander III. the daughter of Henry III., James I. the niece of Henry IV., and the reign of each of these kings had marked a distinct advance in the cultivation of the arts of i>eace in Scotland.
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
WITH James I. there appeared in Scottish history at once the genius which inspired arid the tragedy which haunted the ill-starred Stewart race. His grandfather, Robert II., had not lacked energy in his yotith. It was in great part owing to him that the tide of English conquest had been rolled back in the minority of David II. But he was fifty-five years of age when he ascended the throne, and his day for brilliance in kingly parts was over. Robert III. also had been past his first vigour when the sceptre came to his hand, and besides, in some early tournament the kick of a horse had lamed and xinfitted him for the part of a leader in that active and warlike age. But in James I., perhaps the most accomplished knight and statesman of his time, to say nothing of his poetic gifts, shone forth again with larger lustre the spirit of that gallant Walter Stewart who fought at Bannock- burn and Berwick, and whose marriage with the daughter of Bruce brought to his house the inheritance of the Scottish crown. And the deeds and fate of James form a fitting prelude to the reign of a race whose chivalry and misfortunes for three hundred
io KING JAMES THE FIRST.
years, till its final eclipse at Culloden, have made Scottish history read like a romance.
The second son of Robert III. and his queen Annabella, daughter of Sir John Drummond of Stobhall, James was born at Dunfermline in July 1391. Singularly unfortunate in those who should have been his strongest support, he was indebted for the tragic events which respectively gave him the throne and ended his life to his two uncles, Robert Stewart, Duke of Albany, and Walter Stewart, Earl of Athole. King Robert III. (whose baptismal name, John, had been considered unfortunate for a monarch), incapacitated by disposition and infirmity for strong government, had entrusted the affairs of state to his brother Albany. This nobleman, as bold and ambitious as the king was easy and weak, had not been slow to perceive the possibility thus afforded of carving his own way to the throne. Recently in simi- lar circumstances in England he had seen Richard II. deposed by Henry of Lancaster, and it was more than possible that a like effort would be attended with like success in the north. It was only by a slip in the second step of his enterprise that his calculations defeated their own ends.
Between him and the crown stood the king's elder son, David, Duke of Rothesay, and the young prince James, Earl of Carrick. Upon a plea of dissipation and extravagance, the former, while travelling quietly in Fife, was sei/ed and thrown into Albany's tower of Falkland, where, in spite of the pitying efforts of a poor woman, who, it is said, fed him for a time
KING JAMES THE FIRST. \\
through the bars with thin barley cakes and milk from her own bosom, he died horribly of starvation in March 1402.
Fearful, after this, for the safety of his remaining son, the king first entrusted James to the care of Henry Wardlaw, Bishop of St. Andrews, and after- wards, upon the plea of securing better education, arranged to send him to the court of Charles VI. of France. It illustrates alike the fierceness of the times and the power of the king's brother, that though Albany made no effort to arrest James on his way to the Bass, yet, for a political revenge of his own, he had the prince's escort and kinsman, Sir David Fleming of Cumbernauld, waylaid and slain on re- turning towards Edinburgh.
Tytler in his Lives of Scottish Worthies has left small doubt that Albany intrigued with Henry IV. of England for the capture of the prince at sea. Possibly he calculated upon the perpetual confinement and ulti- mate death of James. It is known that on his own side he had a strong inducement to offer the English king for the effecting of his purpose. Though the death of Richard II. at Pomfret had been announced, it was rumoured that the deposed king had been recog- nized in the outer isles of Scotland. The story is one of the last told by "Wyntoun. A baron's daughter of Ireland, Avho had seen Richard in that country, and had married a brother of the Lord of the Lsles, had recognized the monarch in the person of a poor wanderer seated by the kitchen fire in her castle. This individual was now at the Scottish court, and
12 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
his safe-keeping, or even removal, could be used to bribe or control the action of Henry IV. Albany's intrigue, however, succeeded only in part.
Sailing from the Bass with the second Earl of Orkney and others on board, the prince's ship, though it was in time of truce, was taken by the English off Flam borough Head on Palm Sunday, the 12th of April 1405. But James was neither slain in the action nor ill-treated afterwards. Though a prisoner, he was furnished with all the education befitting a prince, and in the keeping of Henry was safer by far than he could have been under the wardship of his uncle Albany. The possession of James was valuable to the English king in several ways. By producing him at any time the latter could annul in a day the power of the Scottish regent ; the possibility of his doing this could always be used to prevent any ex- ploiting of the claims of Kichard II. by Albany ; and the retention of the prince in English hands might even be made to minimise Scottish succours to the enemy in the war with France.
It is true that Robert III. died slowly of grief after the news of his son's capture ; but to James himself nothing but profit can be said to have accrued from his detention in the south. Imprisoned successively in the Tower, in Nottingham Castle, and at Windsor, hi.s studies were ably supervised by Sir John Pelham, and full opportunity was afforded him of attaining jierfection in all the knightly accomplishments of the time. Practice even in the art of war formed part of his curriculum ; for, carried by Henry V. to France in
KING JAMES THE FIRST. 13
1421, he commanded the English at the siege of Dreux, and it is recorded that by his energy he reduced the town in six weeks. Literature, in particular, is indebted to his imprisonment for the opportunity it afforded of studying the works of the English poets, and for the occasion it furnished for the production of his own greatest poem.
By his own account he had been a captive nearly eighteen years when one morning, looking from his prison lattice into the castle garden at Windsor, he beheld the Lady Tane Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, and niece of Henry IV., who became successively the inspiration of his verse, the means of his liberation and the partner of his throne.
Meanwhile in Scotland the organism of the state and society had been rapidly going to wreck. Albany's policy had been to conciliate the great barons upon whose support he calculated for the retention of power. To this end their gravest misdeeds were overlooked, and in order that they might have no inducement for the restoration of James they were granted large po-sessions out of the crown lands and revenues. Upon the death of Albany in 1419 the regency descended to the weak hands of his son Murdach, and the state of affairs, already grievous, fast became intolerable. Bands of feudal marauders overran the country, industry was at a standstill, and no man's life was safe. Far from being able to govern the kingdom, the regent appeared unable to control his own sons, and it is said that a gross insult from one of them finally determined him to seek the return
I4 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
of the king. To the offender he is reported to have said, " Since thou wilt give me neither reverence nor obedience, I will fetch home one whom we must all obey."
This had lately become an easy matter. No English purpose could now be served by the prince's detention. The fear of Richard II. had passed away, and the presence of James on the English side did not prevent the .Scottish auxiliaries fighting for France. On the other hand an alliance with the English royal house in the person of the Lady Jane appeared to offer sufficient security for the goodwill of the monarch. Accordingly, a ransom of .£40,000 in name of maintenance was arranged to be paid ; on 2nd February 1424, the young lovers were married in the church of St. Mary Overy, keeping their wedding feast in the Bishop of Winchester's palace close by ; on 1st April they entered Scotland amid great rejoicings; and on 21st May James was crowned at Scone.
Thirty years of age, the king is described as of middle height, with chest broad and full, strong but light in build, an adept in horsemanship, swords- manship and all knightly accomplishment*, and a master of music, painting and poetry, while history shows him to have been as resolute in mind as he was active in physique. The historians of that century fill pages with the records of his versatility, and it is known that the fame of his accomplishments spread even to the south of Europe.
Strangely momentous must have been his thoughts
KING fAMES THE FIRST. 15
as he came northwards to require an account at the hands of his regent. News of his brother's terrible death must have been one of his earliest impressions. His own seizure and his father's consequent decease, as well as the nineteen years' captivity without attempt at ransom, could not but be burning in his mind. He found the crown all but bankrupt, its revenues plundered, its estates given away. He found Scotland in a state of anarchy, misrule and licentiousness, the church laid waste, and nobles at war. There was a long account to settle, but the barons, swollen in power, and long accustomed to their own pleasure, were likely ill to brook the interference of a master.
For ten months he waited, unsuspected by the half -contemptuous nobles, silently informing himself of the polity of the country and assuring himself of the support of friends. In order to ascertain the condition of the common people he is even said to have moved about incognito. Then on 12th March 1425, he summoned a parliament at Perth, and the blow fell. By a sudden mandate were arrested the Duke of Albany and his two sons, with his father-in-law, the Earl of Lennox. These were tried by their peers at Stirling on the 24th and 25th May, convicted of high treason, and forthwith executed on the Heading Hill.
It is greatly to the credit of James that almost by these four executions alone he reduced the country from lawlessness to obedience. Had he been les& prompt in action Scotland could scarcely have escaped the horrors of civil war. As it was, his resolution
1 6 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
struck terror to the hearts of the lawless barons, and soon made apparent what he himself declared at Perth, that " no longer were authority, honesty, and virtue to be accounted idle names, nor that reckoned right which was gained and kept by stroke of sword." The Highlands, it is true, continued for some time to give trouble ; but even there the king's sharp energy quickly made itself felt, and after overwhelming defeat in a, marsh of Lochaber, Alaster Macdouald, Lord of the Isles, was finally reduced to appear, half-naked, in Holyrood Church on an Easter Day and throw himself unreservedly on the monarch's mercy.
It had soon become evident that James had vigorous ideas on the duties of government, and that he meant to carry them out. On coming to Scotland he had vowed that though he himself should lead the life of a dog he would make " the key keep the castle and the bush the cow," and resolutely he kept his word. For thirteen years Scotland enjoyed such justice as had not been known since the regency of Randolph. Arts were promoted, circuit courts were established, and law everywhere impartially administered, while much was done to reform the clergy. Once more as in the days of Malcolm Canmore, in strikingly similar circumstances, civilization had begun to make a fresh growtli in the country, when the clouds suddenly darkened round the head of the king.
James had not established law and order without offending many whose license he curtailed. The discontent among these, chiefly the barons, grew in silence for some time. Murmurs, however, at length
KING JAMES THE FIRST. 17
began to be heard, and in the parliament of 1435 Sir Robert Graham, Avhose nephew had been deprived by James of the earldom of Strathearn, is said actually to have laid hands on the king. He was instantly arrested and thrown into prison, but escaping and fleeing to "the country of the wild Scots," he sent a letter to James renouncing his allegiance and swearing mortal revenge whenever this should be in his power. The King in the end of the following year was prosecuting the siege of Roxburgh, then in English hands, when the queen came suddenly to the camp bringing tidings of danger. Her exact information is unrecorded, but it is now known that the old Earl of Athole had become the head of a formidable conspiracy which promised to set his son, Sir Robert Stewart, on the throne. At the queen's tidings James raised the siege of Roxburgh and, mistakenly perhaps, disbanded his army. Resolving to spend Christmas at Perth, he was about to cross the Forth, when a Highland "prophetess" suddenly appeared and warned him that if he crossed that water he should never return alive. The king seemed startled for a moment, and paused, but the warning was finally disregarded. The rest of the story is tragic enough.
The evening of the 20th February 1437 had been spent gaily by the court in the Blackfriars Monastery at Perth. Music, chess and the reading of romances had been kept up till a late hour, and the Earl of Athole and his son, Sir Robert Stewart, were among the last courtiers to retire. Before the gates closed
the Highland woman had again appeared to seek an c ii
18 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
audience of the king, had forced her way even to the chamber door, but had been refused admission by the usher. At midnight, James, in his nightgown and slippers, was standing before the fire chatting pleasantly with the queen and her ladies. Just then a sudden clashing of armour was heard in the garden below, and great flashes of torchlight were cast up against the casements of the windows. At once the king remembered Sir Robert Graham and the warning of the Highland prophetess. There was no time for escape, the assassins were already on their way, and as the king wrenched up the flooring with the tongs and leaped into a sewer-vault below, Catherine Douglas sprang to the door and for lack of a bolt thrust her own arm into the empty staples. All, however, was in vain. The door was burst open, the king's hiding-place discovered, the queen wounded, and James, weaponless, after a terrific struggle with the two first ruffians who leaped down upon him, stabbed and hacked to death by Graham.
Of succeeding events little need be said. Notwith- standing the death of the king the throne remain*-'! unshaken. Forty days later, so swift was the queen's pursuit, all the conspirators were captured and put to- death with fearful tortures.
Such, in barest outline, is the life of King James I. of Scotland, a life that for romantic and tragic incident and for the illustration of a resolute, lofty and finished character, has not been surpassed by poetic invention. As a king he proved himself, what the Stewarts not always were, entirely capable for his place and tinn-,
KINGJAMES THE FIRST. 19
and as a civilizing influence he sowed seeds which have been bearing gentle fruit in the national life for nearly five hundred years. Were it for nothing more than his effect upon the national music he must be entitled to grateful remembrance, many of the sweetest Scottish airs sung to the present day in castle and clachan, being owed, it is believed, to him. But above his fame as a composer and even as a statesman towers his reputa- tion in another realm. King James is likely to remain best known to the world by his work as a poet.
In 1783 Tytler first printed The Kingia Qitair, or Book, from the only known copy, the Selden MS. in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. His edition, however, though it made the poem available, proved somewhat inaccurate, the transcription having been entrusted to "an ingenious young gentleman," a student of Oxford. The various editions which followed were more or less merely reprints of Tytler's text, and it is to Professor Skeat, in his edition for the Scottish Text Society in 1883, that the first reliable version of the poem is owed. The Kingis Qnair is in Chaucer's seven-line stanza, called from this use of it Kime Royal. It celebrates the love of the captive prince for the Lady Jane Beaufort, and is understood to have been written by James at Windsor in 1423, the year before his release. Mair in his History of Scotland states that it was written before the king's marriage. From stanza 10, in which the poet speaks of Fortune having been first his foe anil afterwards his friend, it is probable that the exact date of composition was soon after the successful issue of his suit.
20 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
In the last stanza James acknowledges Chaucer and (lower as his masters in verse, and it is certain that he imbibed from these masters an influence which, carried by his work into the north, was to exert a far-reaching effect upon Scottish poetry. The green branch of southern poesy which James engrafted on the grey bardic stem of Scotland flourished luxuriantly for more than a hundred years, and was hardly all cut down even by the stern pruning-knife of the Reformation. There was more in the royal poet, however, than he got from his masters. They as well as he may be said in the words of one critic to " breathe the romantic and elegant grace which the immense popularity of Petrarch had at that time made the universal pattern throughout Europe." The father of English verse, moreover, was monarch of realms into which the Scottish poet never sought to enter. But, as Mr. Stopford Brooke has said, in The Kintjis Quair " the natural description is more varied, the colour is more vivid, and there is a modern self-reflective quality which does not belong to Chaucer at all " ; and the same writer must be listened to when he declares the work of James to be "sweeter, tenderer, and purer than any verse till we come to Spenser." The allegoric form in which a great part of the poem is written has passed away, it is true, from modern taste ; but The Kinyits Quair possesses perennial qualities which remain as fresh yet as when the verses were penned by the royal prisoner. No poet has ever painted love-longing and the dawn of love mi in- delicately or with subtler artistic touch ; no poet lias
KING J Air ES THE FIRST. 21
given a more exquisite impression of the sweet awe and loveliness of womanhood.
As it stands, The Kingu Quair places James in the gallery of the world's immortal lovers. Beside Petrarch penning his sonnets to Laura, and the pale Dante gazing on his dead Beatrice, must remain the picture of the captive prince looking forth from his lattice in the tower of Windsor, while below in the garden alleys there lingers for a space, half-consciously, the maid of "beautee eneuch to mak a world to dote."
This, nevertheless, was not the only poem composed by James I. First of all, Mair, who wrote about the year 1500, says that besides "the book concerning the queen," and many songs still popular in his own day, James had written other two compositions beginning respectively with the words " Yas sen " and " At Beltayn." Then, in Bannatyne's MS., written in 1568, the poem of Christ's Kirk on the Green has the note appended " Quod K. -Fames the First." And still further, both Dr. Irving and Mr. Skeat print a poem of three stanzas, whose authenticity can hardly be questioned, as it is ascribed to James I. in The Gude and Godlie Ballates of 1578, and in Ane com- pentious Booke of godly and spiritual Songn, printed in 1621.
The last of these poems is included in the present volume, but regarding the identity and authenticity of the first three — the compositions beginning with " Yas sen" and "At Beltayn," and the poem of Christ'* Kirk — grave doubts have been expressed. The only clue to the first two are the words given by Mair, but,
22 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
on the strength of these, two compositions printed in Pinkerton's Ancient Scottish Poems have been attri- buted to James — a Sony on Absence beginning :
Sen that [the] eyne that workis my weilfare Dois no inoir on me glance ;
and the well-known Peblis to the Play, which begins
with :
At Beltane quhen ilk bodie bownis To Peblis to the Play.
Of Christ's Kirk on the Green, printed in the same collection, the only suggestion of James' authorship is IJannatyne's note.
Against the authenticity of the Sony on Absence and Pebliif to the Play is remarked the slight-ness of Mair's evidence. The first words of the former have to be transposed to fit his quotation, while regarding the latter he distinctly affirms that as the king's poem was not accessible, several substitutes had been made ; the opening " At Beltayn," therefore, may be under- stood to have become hackneyed. Against James' authorship of Chrut'x Kirk on the G-reen it is observed that the sole authority, Bannatyne, appears to have been careless or confused enough to make a mistake. The next poem but one in his collection he ascribes to "James the Fyift," or as some read it " the Fyrst," in mistake for James the Fourth, and it is supposed he may have made a similar error witli Chrittf* Kirk. Further, it is averred that common tradition previous to the discovery of the Bannatyne MS. invariably ascribed the poem to James V. This tradition is supported by the usage of the early writers, Dempster
KING JAMES THE FIRST. 23
in the beginning of the seventeenth century, Bishop Gibson in 1691, and James Watson in 1706. Sibbald in his Chronicle of Scottish Poetry may be quoted : " James V. certainly was a writer of verses, as we know from the undoubted testimony of Lindsay, and it appears safer upon the whole in this instance to trust to vulgar tradition than to the ipse dixit of Bannatyne, who seems to have had but an indistinct notion of our different kings of the name of James." It has been pointed out that the style and strain of humour both of PeUis to the Play and of Christ's Kirk are exactly the same as those of The Gaberlunzieman, which has always been attributed to James V. ; while on the other hand one writer, Guest, in his English Rhythms, has said : " One can hardly suppose those critics serious who attribute this song (Christ's Kirk} to the moral and sententious James I." Finally, Professor Skeat declares that "if we are to have any regard at all to the language, style and metre of these poems, we cannot make them earlier than half-a-century or more after 1437." It would seem most fair, therefore, to follow the example of critics like Percy, Warton, Ritson and Stopford Brooke, and assign the probable authorship both of Peblis to the Play and Christ's Kirk on the Green to James the Fifth.
It is upon his Kingis Quair that the poetic fame of James the First must ultimately depend. By it he is sufficiently proved to be, in the words of Dr. Irving, " a royal poet upon whose character royalty itself could scarcely confer any additional splendour."
ON the plea that The Kiiigis Qiiair was written in an imitation of Chaucer's dialect, and that the language of the poem therefore was technically imperfect, Mr. Skeat undertook to regulate the lines by addition of words and syllables where he considered requisite. As absolute regularity of rhythm, however, may not have been the poet's intention, only such additions are here inserted (in brackets) as seem necessary for the sense. For most of these, and for the light which its notes frequently cast on the text, indebtedness has to be acknowledged to Mr. Skeat's edition. The poem is here printed complete.
THE KINGIS QUAIR.
Maid be King lames of Scotland the First quhen his Maiestie wes in Ingland.
jjEIGH in the hevynnis figure circulere
The rody sterres twynklyng as the fyre ; And, in Aquary, Cynthia1 the clere i MS. citherea.
Rynsid hir tressis like the goldiii wyre, That late tofore, in fair and fresche atyre, Through Capricorn heved hir hornis bright, North northward approchit the myd-nyght;
Quhen as I lay in bed allone waking, New par tit out of slepe a lyte tofore2,
Fell me to mynd of many diuerse thing,
Off this and that; can I noght say quharfore, Bot slepe for craft in erth myght I no more ;
For quhich as tho3 coude I no better wyle,
Bot toke a boke to rede apon a quhile :
2 a little before.
3 then.
Off quhich the name is clepit4 properly 4 called.
Boece, eftere him that was the compiloure, Schewing [the] counsele of philosophye,
Compilit by that noble senatoure
Off Rome, quhilom5 that was the warldis floure, 5 formerly. And from estate by fortune a quhile
-171 • -j.« ,7 • -i 6 Condemned.
1 ormgit" was to pouert7 in exile : 7 poverty.
26
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
1 Describing.
2 poetic narra-
tive.
3 began.
4 though. s that estopped.
7 true security.
8 these uncer-
tain.
MS. th.-irr.
» worthily.
And there to here this worthy lord and clerk, His metir suete, full of moralitee;
His flourit pen so fair he set a-werk, Discryving1 first of his prosperitee, And out of that his infelicitee ;
And than how he, in his poetly report2,
In philosophy can3 him to confort.
For quhich, thoght4 I in purpose, at my boke, To borowe a slepe at thilke5 tyrne began,
Or euer I stent", my best was more to loke Vpon the writing of this noble man, That in him-self the full recouer wan
Off his infortune, pouert, and distresse, in tham set his verray sekernesse7.
And so the vertew of his youth before Was in his age the ground of his delytis :
Fortune the bak him turnyt, and therfore He maketh ioye and confort, that he quit i
/••»«. ..i- i -a IT i-i-
On thir vnsekir8 warldis appetitis ; And so aworth" he takith his penance, And of his vertew maid it suffisance :
11 skull, li-.-i.!.
It tongue, language.
With mony a noble resoun, as him likit, Enditing in lii^ f;iiri; Latyne tong,
So full of fruyte, and rethorikly pykit10,
Quhich to declare my scole11 is ouer yong ; Therefore [ lat him pas, and, in my tong1-,
Procede I will agayn to my sentence
Off my mater, and leue all incidence.
THE KINGJS QUAIR.
27
The long nyght beholding, as I saide, Myn eyne gan to smert for studying;
My buke I schet, and at my hede it laide ; And doune I lay bot1 ony tarying, This matere new in my mynd rolling ;
This is to seyne2, how that eche estate,
As Fortune lykith, thame will [oft] translate.
For sothe it is, that, on hir tolter3 quhele, Euery wight cleuerith in his stage4,
And failyng foting oft, quhen hir lest rele, Sum vp, sum donne, is none estate nor age Ensured, more the prynce than the page :
So vncouthly hir werdes5 sche deuidith,
Namly6 in youth, that seildin ought prouidith.
Among thir7 thoughtis rolling to and fro, Fell me to mynd of my fortune and vre8 ;
In tender youth how sche was first my fo, And eft9 my frende, and how I gat recure Off my distresse, and all myn auenture
I gan oure-hayle10, that langer slepe ne rest
Ne myght I nat, so were my wittis wrest.
For-wakit and fnr-walowit11, thus musing, Wery, forlyin1-, I lestnyt sodaynlye,
And sone I herd the bell to matynes ryng, And vp I rase, no langer wald I lye : Bot now, how trowe ye ? suich a fantasye
Fell me to mynd, that ay me-thoght the bell
Said to me, "Tell on, man, quliat the befell."
1 without.
'2 say.
3 unstable.
4 clambers in his rank.
5 So strangely
her fates, li Especially.
7 these.
8 chance.
9 afterwards.
10 overhaul.
11 Sore waking and sore toss- ing.
12 tired with lying.
28
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
1 then.
3 person.
8 maketli me think so foolishly.
4 began.
7 liable.
8 stands. i> guide.
10 helmless.
11 must hie to harm.
U help.
Thoght I tho1 to my-self, "Quhat may this be?
This is myn awin ymagynacioun ; It is no lyf2 that spc'kis vnto me ;
It is a bell, or that impressioun
Off my thoght causith this illusioun, That dooth me think so nycely3 in this wise ; " And so befell as I schall you deuise.
Determyt furth therewith in myn eritent, Sen I thus haue ymagynit of this soune,
And in my tyme more ink and paper spent To lyte effect, I tuke conclusioun Sum new thing to write ; I set me doun,
And furth-with-all my pen in hand I tuke,
And maid a 4-, and thus begouth4 my buke.
Thou [sely]5 youth, of nature indegest6, Vnrypit fruyte with windis variable ; Like to the bird that fed is on the nest,
And can noght flee ; of wit wayke and vnstable, To fortune both and to infortune liable" ; Wist thoti thy payne to cum and thy trauaille, For sorow and drede wele myght thou wepe and waille.
Thus stant8 thy confort in vnsekurnesse,
An<l wantis it that suld the reule and gye9 :
Kyght as the schip that sailith stereles10 Ypon the rok[kis] most to liarmes hye11, For lak of it that suld bene hir supplye12 ;
So standis thou here in this warldis rage,
Ami wantis that suld gyde all thy viage.
THE KINGIS QUAIR.
29
-
I mene this by iny-self, as in party e1 :
Though nature gave me suffisance in youth2,
The rypenesse of resoun lak[it] I,
To gouerne with my will ; so lyte I couth3, Quhen stereles to trauaile I begouth4,
Auiang the wawis of this warkl to driue ;
And how the case, anoue I will discriue.
1 lament this regarding myself, as participator.
2 sufficient reason for a youth.
3 so little I could.
4 began.
With doutfull hert, amang the rokkis blake,
My feble bote full fast to stere and rowe, Helples allone, the wynter nyght I wake,
To wayte5 the wynd that furthward suld me thro we. 5 ascertain.
0 empti saile ! quhare is the wynd suld blowe Me to the port, quhar gynneth all my game ? Help, Calyope, and wynd, in Marye name !
The rokkis clepe6 I the prolixitee
Off doubtfulnesse7 that doith8 my wittis pall
The lak of wynd is the deh'cultee In enditing of this lytill trety small : The bote I clepe the mater hole of all :
My wit vnto the saile that now I wynd,
To seke connyng9, though I bot lytill fynd.
At my begynnyng first I clepe and call To yow, Cleo10, and to yow, Polymye11,
With Thesiphone12, goddis and sistris all, In iiowmer ix., as bokis specif ye ; In this processe my wilsum13 wittis gye ;
And with your bryght lanternis wele conuoye
My pen, to write my turment and my ioye !
6 name.
7 MS. doubli- nessf.
8 maketh.
9 skill.
10 Clio, Muse of History.
11 Polyhymnia Muse of Song, &c.
12 Tisiphom1, a Fury mist. perh. for a Muse.
13 wilful.
\ spring.
•I C.vntliiu.-. 8 morning.
30 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
Q*
In vere1, that full of vertu is and gude, Quhen Nature first begynneth hir enprise,
That quhilum was be cruell frost and flude And schouris scharp opprest in many wyse, And Synthius- [bejgyimeth to aryse
Heigh in the est, a morow3 soft and suete,
Ypward his course to driue in Ariete :
(i.e. one hour).
MS. Passit bot ini'May.
4 derives exactly Passit mvdday bot foure greis evin4.
It . r.no
Off lenth and brede his angel wingis bryght He spred vpon the ground doune fro the hevin ; That, for gladnesse and confort of the sight, And with the tiklyng of his hete and light, The tender flouris opnyt thanie and sprad ; And, in thaire nature, thankit him for glad.
5
6 be fore.
7 be your fwcu- rity.
Noght fer passit the state of innocence, Bot nere about the nowmer of yeris thre5,
Were it causit throu hevinly influence Off goddis will, or othir casualtee, Can I noght say ; bot out of my contra-,
By thaire avise that had of me the cure,
Be see to pas, tuke I myn auenture.
Pnruait of all that was vs necessarye,
With wynd at will, vp airly by the morowe,
Streight vnto schip, no longere wold we tarye, The way we tuk, the tyme I tald to-forowe° ; With niony "fare wele" ami "Sanct lobm- to borowe" "
Oft' falowe and frende ; and thus with one assent
We pullit vp saile, and furth oure wayis went.
THE KING IS QUAIK.
1 unlucky.
Vpon the wawis weltering to and fro, So infortunate was vs that fremyt1 day,
That inaugre, playnly, quhethir we wold or no, With strong hand, by forse, schortly to say, Off inymyis takin and led away
We weren all, and broght in thaire coiitree ;
Fortune it schupe2 none othir wayis to be.
Quhare as in strayte ward and in strong prisouri, So fer forth3 of ray lyf the heuy lyne,
Without confort, in sorowe abandoune, The secund sistere lukit hath to twyne4, ^Xere by the space of yeris twise nyne ;
Till lupiter his merci list aduert5,
And send confort in relesche6 of my smert.
Quhare as in ward full oft I wold bewaille My dedely lyf, full of peyne and penance,
Saing ryght thus, "Quhat haue I gilt to faille7 My fredome in this warld and my plesance? Sen euery wight has thereof suffisance,
That I behold, and I a creature
Put from all this — hard is myn auenture !
The bird, the beste, the fisch eke in the see,
They ly ve in fredome euerich8 in his kynd ; 8 every one.
And I a man, and lakkith libertee ;
Quhat schall I seyne9, quhat resoun may I fynd, 9 **y- That Fortune suld do so?" Thus in my mynd
My folk I wold argewe10, bot all for noght ; 10 i.«.argue with.
Was none that myght, that on my peynes rought.
2 destined.
3 far forward.
4 i.e. Lacliesis, spinneroflife's thread, has seen to it to cut in twain.
5 pleased to turn.
6 relief.
7 done ill to lose.
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
Than wold I say, "Gif Uod me had deuisit 1 1'"'"- To lyve my lyf in thraldome thus and pyne1,
((>uhat was the cause that he [me] more comprisit Than othir folk to lyve in snich ruvne2?
3 i.r. when alone
as cipher I suffer allone amang the fiffuris nyne3,
among the nine
numerals. Am; wofull wrecche that to no wight may spede4,
» ^hi- help. . , . , , . . , ,
5 person's. Antl J1*- °* euery lyvis5 help hath nede.
The long dayes and the nyghtis eke
I wold bewaille my fortune in this wise,
For quhich, agane distresse confort to seke, My custuru was on mornis for to ryse Airly as day ; 0 happy exercise !
By the come I to ioye out of turment.
Bot now to purpose of my first entent : —
Bewailing in my cl.an: oer thus alloiu1. Despeired of all ioye and remedye,
For-tirit6 of my thoght, and wo-l)egone, Unto7 the wyndow gan I walk in hye8, To se the warld and folk that went forby ;
As for the tynie, though I of mirthis fude
Myght haue no more, to hike it did me gude.
Now was there maid fast by the touris wall A gardyn faire, and in the corneris set
Ane herbere9 grene, with wandis long ami small Railit about ; and so with treis set Was all the place, and hawthorn hegis knet,
That lyf10 was none walking there forby ",
That myght within scai-se ony wight aspye.
i) Full weary.
7 MS. And to. S hast*.
10 IHTMHII.
11 past.
THE KING IS Q.UAIR.
33
2 twigs.
3 hymns.
4 at times.
5 couplet. MS. on the copill.
So thik the bewis1 and the leues grene 1 boughs.
Beschadit all the aleyes that there were,
And myddis euery herbere myght be sene The scharp grene suete ienepere, Growing so faire with branchis here and there,
That, as it semyt to a lyf without,
The bewis spred the herbere all about;
And on the small grene twistis2 sat
The lytill suete nyghtingale, and song So loud and clere, the ympnis3 consecrat
Off lufis vse, now soft, now lowd among4,
That all the gardyng and the wallis rong Ryght of thaire song and of the copill5 next Off thaire suete armony, and lo the text :
[CANTUS.] i^ 3 7
"Worschippe, ye that loueris bene, this May,
For of your blisse the kalendis are begonne, And sing with vs, away, Winter, away !
Cum, Somer, cum, the suete sesoun and sonne !
Awake for schame ! that haue your hevynnis wonne, And amorously lift vp your hedis all, Thank Lufe that list6 you to his merci call." 6 is pleased.
Quhen thai this song had song a lytill thrawe7, 7 space.
Thai stent8 a quhile, and therewith vnaffraid, estopped. As I beheld and kest myn eyne a-lawe9, 9 below.
From beugh to beugh thay hippit and thai plaid,
And freschly in thaire birdis kynd arraid Thaire fetheris new, and fret thame in the sonne, And thankit Lufe, that had thaire inakis10 wonne.
D II
34
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
This was the plane ditee of thaire note,
And there-with-all vnto my-self I thoght, i way of life. "Quhat lyf1 is this, that makis birdis dote?
Quhat may this be, how cummyth it of ought? Quhat nedith it to be so dere ybought? It is nothing, trowe I, bot feynit chere, And that men list to counterfeten chere."
2 Afterwards.
3 make fast.
4 Since.
5 say.
not.
7 worthy.
Eft2 wald I think; "0 Lord, quhat may this be?
That Lufe is of so noble myght and kynde, Lufing his folk, and suich prosperitee
Is it of him, as we in bukis fynd?
May he oure hertes setten8 and vnbynd? Hath he vpon oure hertis suich maistrye ? Or all this is bot feynyt fantasye !
For gif he be of so grete excellence,
That he of euery wight hath cure and charge,
Quhat haue I gilt to him or doon offense, That I am thrall, and birdis gone at large, Sen4 him to serue he myght set my corage 1
And gif he be noght so, than may I seyne6,
Quhat makis folk to iangill of him in veyne?
Can I noght elles fynd, bot gif that he Be lord, and as a god may lyue and regne,
To bynd and louse, and maken thrallis free, Than wold I pray his blisfull grace benigne, To hable0 me vnto his seruice digne7 ;
And euermore for to be one of tho
Him trewlv for to some in wele and wo.
THE KINGIS QUAIR. ^,Q 35
And there-with kest I doune myn eye ageyne, Quhare as I sawe, walking vnder the toure,
Full secretly, new cummyri hir to pleyne1, i play.
The fairest or the freschest yong floure That euer I sawe, me-thoght, before that houre,
For quhich sodayn abate, anone astert
The blude of all my body to my hert.
And though I stude abaisit tho a lyte2, 2 then a little.
No wonder was; for quhy, my wittis all Were so ouercome with plesance and delyte,
Onely throu latting of myn eye'n fall,
That sudaynly my hert became hir thrall For euer, of free wyll ; for of manace There was no takyn3 in hir suete face. ' 3 token.
And in my hede I drewe ryght hastily,
And eft-sones4 I lent it forth ageyne, 4 soon after.
And sawe hir walk, that verray womanly,
With no wight mo, bot onely wommen tueyne.
Than gan I studye in my-self, and seyne, " A ! suete, ar ye a warldly creature, Or hevinly thing in likenesse of nature?
Or ar ye god Cupidis owin princesse,
And cummyn are to louse me out of band ? Or ar ye verray5 Nature the goddesse, ; 5 truly.
That haue depayntit with your hevinly hand
This gardyn full of flouris, as they stand? Quhat sail I think, allace ! quhat reuerence Sail I minister0 to your excellence ? • -Nls- minster.
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
1 avoid.
2 makfth me
rfgh.
3 Why jilcasi-.
4 innocent.
5 knows.
Gif ye a goddesse be, and that ye like To do me payne, I may it uoght astert1 ;
Gif ye be warldly wight, that dooth mi- sike2, Quhy lest3 God mak you so, my derrest hert, To do a sely4 prisoner thus smert,
That lutis vow all, and wote5 of noght bot wo?
And therefor, merci, suete ! sen it is so."
6 while.
7 trimmed.
8 Balassian rubies glowing.
P forget-ini'-iiot
10 great St. .lolin's-wort Hovrer.
11 "a »ort of carted tuft." MS. repeats " floure- ' iouettU."
Quhen I a lytill thrawe6 had maid my moon, Bewailling myn infortune and my chance,
Ynknawin how or quhat was best to doon, 80 ferre i-fallyng into lufis dance, That sodeynly my wit, my contenance,
My hert, my will, my nature, and my mynd,
Was changit clene ryght in ane-othir kynd.
Off hir array the forme gif I sail write, Toward hir gold in haire and rich atyre
In fret-wise couchit" [was] with perllis quhite And grete balas lemyng8 as the fyre, With mony ane emeraut and faire saphire ;
And on hir hede a chaplet fresch of hewe,
Off plumys partit rede, and quhite, and blewe ;
Full of quaking spangis bryght as gold, Forgit of schap like to the amorettis9,
So new, so fresch, so plesant to behold,
The plumys eke like to the floure-ionettis10,
And othir of schap like to the [round crokettis],11
And, aboue all thu», then- was, welu I wote,
Beautee eiieuch to mak a world to dote.
THE KING IS QUAIR.
37
About hir nek, quhite as the fyre amaille1, A gudely cheyne of smale orfeuerye2,
Quhareby there hang a ruby, without faille, Lyke to ane hert schapin verily, That, as a sperk of lowe3, so \vantonely
Semyt birnyng vpon hir quhyte throte ;
Now gif there was gucl partye4, God it wote !
And for to walk that fresche Mayes morowe,
Ane huke3 sche had vpon hir tissew6 quhite, That gudeliare had noght bene sene toforowe7,
As I suppose ; and girt sche was a lyte.
Thus halflyng8 louse for haste, to suich delyte It was to see hir youth in gudelihede,
That for rudenes to speke thereof I drede.
In hir was youth, beautee, with humble aport9, Bountee, richesse and wommanly facture10,
God better wote than my pen can report.
\Visedome, largesse, estate, and connyng11 sure In euery poynt so guydit hir mesure,
In word, in dede, in schap, in contenance,
That nature myght no more hir childe auance.
Throw quhich anone I knew and vnderstude Wele, that sche was a warldly creature ;
On quhom to rest myn eye, so micli guile It did my wofull hert, I vow assure, That it was to me ioye without mesure ;
And, at the last, my luke vnto the hevin
I threwe furthwith, and said thir versis1'- seviu :
1 enamel made by fire.
2 gold work.
3 flame.
4 a good partner. Fr. partie.
5 loose upper dress.
6 thin under- garment.
7 before.
8 partly.
9 demeanour.
10 fashioning.
11 skill.
12 these lines.
1 made a star.
38 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
" O Venus clere ! of goddis stellifyit1 ! To quhom I yelde homage and sacrifise,
Fro this day forth your grace be magnifyit, That me ressauit haue in suich [a] wise, To lyve vnder your law and do seruise;
Now help me furth, and for your merci lede
My hert to rest, that deis nere for drede."
Quhen I with gude entent this orisoun 2VP°aPce*d8litt!e Thus endit had, I stynt a lytill stound2 ;
3 afterward* ^J gftS Jnyn gyg fu\\ pitously adouiie
I kest, behalding vnto hir lytill hound, That with his bellis playit on the ground; Than wold I say, and sigh therewith a lyte, " A ! wele were him that now were in thy plyte ! "
Ane-othir quhile the lytill nyghtingale, That sat apnn the twiggis, wold I chide,
And say ryght thus, "Quhare are thy notis smale, That thou of loue has song this morowe-tyde? Seis thou noght hire that sittis the besyde?
For Venus sake, the blisfull goddesse clere,
Sing on agane, and mak my lady chere.
4
And eke I pray, for all the paynes grete,
Tlmt> for the loue of Proigne4 thy sister dere,
•w3w.'°B Thou sufferit quhilom, quhen thy brestis wete Were with the teres of thyne eye'n clere, All bludy ronne ; that pitee was to here The crueltee of that vnknyghtly dede,
Quhare was fro the bereft thy maidenhede,
THE Kl\TGIS QUA IK.
39
Lift vp thyne hert, and sing with guile enteut;
And in thy notis suete the tresone telle, That to thy sister trewe and innocent
Was kythit1 by hir husband false and fell ;
For quhois gilt, as it is worthy wel, Chide thir husbandis that are false, I say, And bid thame mend, in the twenty deuil way1*.
1 shown.
2 i.e. in every possible way. MS. xxtv.
4 hast thou no desire.
0 lytill wrecch, allace ! maist thou noght se
Quho commyth yond ? Is it now tyme to wring3 ? 3 grieve. Quhat sory thoght is fallin vpon the
Opyn thy throte; hastow no lest4 to sing?
Allace ! sen thou of resone had felyng, Now, suetii bird, say ones to me ' pepe ' :
1 dee for wo ; me-think thou gynnis slepe.
Hastow no mynde of lufe ? Quhare is thy make ]
Or artow seke, or smyt with ielousye 1 Or is sche dede, or hath sche the forsake 1
Quhat is the cause of thy malancolye,
That thou no more list5 maken melodye ] 5 art pleased to.
Sluggart, for schame ! lo here thy goldin houre, That worth were hale0 all thy lyvis laboure ! e wholly.
Gyf thou suld sing wele euer in thy lyve,
Here is, in fay", the tyme, and eke the space : 7 j,, faitu. Quhat wostow than8 ? sum bird may cum and stry ve s what knowest
J thou then ?
In song with the, the maistry to purchace.
Suld thou than cesse, it were grete schame, allace ! And here, to wyn gree9 happily for euer, Here is the tyme to syng, or ellis neuer."
9 A*
8UPen'
4o
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
I thoght eke thus, gif I my handis clap, i throw forth (a Qr gif I cast1, than will sche tiee away :
sound).
And gif I hald my pes, than will sche nap ; 2 knows. And gif I crye, sche wate*2 noght quhat I say:
Thus, quhat is best, wate I noght be this day : Bot blawe wynd, blawe, and do the leuis schake, That sum twig may wag, and mak hir to wake.
3 MS. ho. With that anone ryght sche3 toke vp a sang,
Quhare come anone mo birdis and alight; Bot than, to here the mirth was thame amang,
4 Above that too. Ouer that to4, to see the suete sicht
Off hyr Ymage, my spirit was so light, Me-thoght I flawe for ioye without arest,
5 bound all too So were my wittis boundin all to fest5.
fast. J
6 Which.
7 have pity.
8 unknown.
0 Since.
10 tlii-n.
11 tli-it.
12 may nut -^i through.
13 i.e. tlion, O heart!
14 refuw thmi not.
And to the notis of the philomene,
Quhilkis0 sche sang, the ditee there I maid
Direct to hire that was my herds queue, Withoutin quhom no songis may me glade ; And to that sanct, [there] walking in the schade,
My bedis thus, with humble hert entere,
Deuotly [than] I said on this manere.
" Quhen sail your merci rew7 vpon your man, Quhois seruice is yit vncouth8 vnto yow 1
Sen9, quhen ye go, ther is noght ellis than10
Bot, 'Hert : i|ulitT<- a.-" tin- Ixulv may noght throu12 Folow thy hevin ! C^ulio suld be glad bot thou13
That suich a gyde to folow has vndertake1?
\V' n- it throu hell, the way thou noght forsake14!'"
THE KING IS QUA IK.
And efter this the birdis euerichone1 l every one-
Tuke vp ane-othir sang full loud and clere,
And with a voce said, " Wele isvs begone2,
That with oure niakis3 are togider here ; 3 niates
We proyne4 and play without dout and dangere, 4 Preen
All clothit in a soyte5 full fresch and neAve,
In lufis seruice besy, glad, and trewe.
2 Well has it happed with us.
5 in one suit.
6 abides.
And ye, fresche May, ay mercifull to bridis, Xow welcum be ye, floure of monethis all ;
For noght onely your grace vpon vs bydis0, Bot all the warld to witness this we call, That strowit hath so playnly ouer all
With new fresche suete and tender grene,
Oure lyf, oure lust7, oure gouernoure, oure quene." 7 delight.
This was thair song, as semyt me full heye8, With full mony vncouth suete note and schill9,
And there \vi'h-all that faire10 vpward hir eye Wold cast amang11, as it was Goddis will, Quhare I myght se, standing allane full still,
The faire facture12 that nature, for maistryer13,
In hir visage wroght liad full lufinglv.
8 loud. 0 shrill.
10 fair one.
11 at times.
12 workmanship.
13 as a master- piece.
And, quhen sche walkit had a lytill thrawe14
Vnder the suete grene bewis bent15,
Hir faire fresche face, as quhite as ony snawe,
Scho turnyt has, and furth hir wayis went ;
Bot tho10 began uiyn axis17 and turment, To sene hir part18, and folowe I na myght ; Me-thoght the day was turnyt into nyght.
14 while.
15 bended toughs.
16 then. IT fever. 18 see her depart.
KING /.-i.UES THE FfRST.
\ God knows, yea.
2 these (pnins)
no more strongly may afflict.
3 at once.
4 locked.
.1 remedy, ti unli'ss'.
7 prepare.
8 make my spirit
pass.
Then said T thus, "Qulmre-to lyve 1 langer?
Wofullest wicbt, and subiect vnto peyne ! Of peyne 1 no ! God wote, ya1 : for thay no stranger
May wirken2 ony wight, I dare wele seyne.
How may this be, that deth and lyf, bothe tueyne, Sail bothe atonis8 in a creature Togidder duell, and turment thus nature?
I may noght ellis done bot wepe and waile, With-in thir cald wallis thus i-lokin4 ;
From hennsfurth my rest is my trauaile : My drye thirst with teris sail I slokin, And on my-self bene al my harmys wrokin :
Thus bute5 is none ; bot6 Venus, of hir grace, schape7 remede, or do my spirit pace8.
As Tantalus I trauaile, ay but-les, 9 alike. That euer ylike9 hailith at the well
Water to draw with buket botemles,
And may noght spede ; quhois penance is ane hell 10 regarding. So by1" myself this tale I may wele telle,
For vnto hir that herith noght I pleyne ;
Thus like to him my trauaile is in veyne."
So sore thus sighit I with my-self allone, That turnyl is my strenth in febilnesse,
11 foe*. My wele in wo, my frendis all in fone11,
My lyf in deth, my lyght into dirknesse,
12 certainty. My hope in feer, in dout my sekirnesse12 ;
is may God con- Sen pche is cone : and God mote hir conuoye18,
voy her.
That we may gyde to tui ment and to ioye !
THE KIN CIS QUAIR.
43
The long day thus gan I prye and poure, Till Phebus enclit had his benies bryght,
Arid bad go farewele euery lef and floure, This is to say, approch gan the nyght, And Esperus his lampis gan to light;
Quhen in the wyndow, still as any stone,
I bade1 at lenth, and kneling, maid my inone.
So lang till evin, for lak of myght and mynd, For-wepit and for-pleynit2 pitously,
Outset so sorow had bothe hert and mynd, That to the cold stone my hede on wrye3 I laid, and lent, amaisit verily,
Half sleping and half suoune, in suich a wise :
And quhat I met, I will you now deuise4.
I
1 abode.
2 weary with weeping and plaining.
3 awry.
4 describe.
power was lost.
Me-thoght that thus all sodeynly a lyght In at the wyndow come quhare that I lent,
Off quhich the chambere-wyndow schone full bryght, And all my body so it hath ouerwent, That of my sicht the vertew hale iblent5; 5 the whole
And that with all a voce vnto me saide,
"I bring the comfort and hele", be noght affrayde." t; healing.
And furth anone it passit sodeynly.
Quher it come in, the ryght way ageyne, And sone, me-thoght, furth at the dure in hye",
I went my weye, nas nothing me ageyne8 ;
And hastily, by bothe the armes tueyne, I was araisit vp in-to the air, Clippit0 in a cloude of cristall clere and faire.
7 haste.
8 nor was there anything hindering me.
9 Embraced.
44
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
1 i.e. the sphere of the zodiac.
2 clear.
3 i.f. in a trin>, :isim>' may say
4 spacious.
5 concourse.
Ascending vpward ay fro spere to spere, Through aire and \vatcrc and the hoti- fyre.
Till that I come vnto the circle clere
Off Signifere1, quhare faire, bryght, and schire2, The signis schone ; and in the glade empire
Oil' blisfull Venus, [quhar] ane cryit now.
So sudaynly, almost I wist noght how.
Off quhich the place, quhen I come there mye, Was all, me-thoght, of cristall stonis wroght,
And to the port I liftit was in hye,
Quhare sodaynly, as quho sais at a thoght3, It opnyt, and I was anon in broght
Within a chamber, large, rown4, and faire ;
And there I fand of peple grete repaire5.
This is to seyne, that present in that place Me-thoght I sawe of euery nacioun
Loueris that endit [had] thaire lyfis space- In lovis seruice, mony a mylioun, Off quhois chancis0 maid is mencioun
In diuerse bnkis, quho tliame list to se ;
And therefore here thaire namys lat I be.
The quhois auenture and grete labouriw Aboue thaire hcdis writin there I fand ;
This is lo seyne, martris and confessouris7, Ech in his stage, and his make8 in his hand ; And therewith-all thir peple sawe I stand,
0 MS. solumpt. tiT-ii i -,o
With mony a solempmt1 contenancc,
10 Ax Love chose
toa-ivan,,. After as Lufe thame lykit to auance10.
6 a'lventures.
7 i.r. for lov
8 mat«>.
THE KIN CIS QUA IK.
45
Off gude folkis, that faire in lufe befill1, i befell.
There saw I sitt in order by thame one'2 2 by themselves.
With hedis hore ; and with thame stude Gude-will
To talk and play. And after that anone
Besyde thame and next there saw I gone3 3 go about.
Curage, amang the fresche folkis yong, And with thame playit full merily and song.
And in ane-othir stage, endlong4 the wall, There saw I stand, in capis wyde and lang,
A full grete nowmer ; bot thaire hudis all, Wist I noght quhy, atoure5 thair eye'n hang ; And aye to thame come Repentance amang6,
And maid thame chere, degysit in his wede7.
And dounward efter that yit I tuke hede.
Ryght ouerthwert8 the chamber was there drawe A trevesse9 thin and quhite, all of plesance,
The quhich behynd, standing, there I sawe A warld of folk, and by thaire contenance Thaire hertis semyt full of displesance,
With billis in thaire handis, of one assent
Vnto the iuge thaire playntis to present.
And there-with-all apperit vnto me
A voce, and said, Tak hede, man, and behold : Yonder10 thou seis the hiest stage and gree11
Off agit folk, with hedis hore and olde;
Yone were the folke that neuer change wold In lufe, bot trewly seruit him alway, In euery age, vnto thaire ending-day.
4 along.
5 over.
6 at times.
7 disguised in dress.
S athwart. 0 curtain.
10 M.S. Yonilf-r there.
11 degree.
1 The practice, the skill of the craft of love.
2 alive.
3 memory.
4 where.
5 mates.
46 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
For fro the tyme that thai coud vnderstand The exercise, of lufis craft the cure1,
Was none on lyve- that toke so moch on hand For lufis sake, nor langer did endure In lufis seruice ; for, man, I the assure,
Quhen thay of youth ressauit had the fill,
Yit in thaire age thame lakkit no gude will.
Here bene also of suich as in counsailis And all thar dedis, were to Venus trewe ;
Here hene the princis, faucht th-e grete batailis, In mynd3 of quhom ar maid the bukis newe, Here bene the poetis that the sciencis knewe,
Throwout the world, of lufe in thaire suete layes,
Suich as Guide and Omere in thaire dayes.
And efter thame downe in the next stage, There as4 thou seis the yong folkis pleye :
Lo ! thise were thay that, in thaire myddill age, Seruandis were to Lufe in mony weye, And diuersely happinnit for to deye ;
Sum soroufully, for wanting of thare makis6,
And sum in armes for thaire ladves sakis.
And othir eke by othir diuerse chance,
As happin folk all day, as ye may se ; Sum for dispaire, without recoucrance ;
Sum for desyre, surmounting thaire degree ; Sum for dispite and othir imnytee ; eawhy.areason. Sum for vnkyndeiies without a quhy°; tow?00 '' Sum for to much7, and sum for ielousye.
THE KING IS QUA1&. 47
And efter this, vpon yone stage adoun1, i MS. doun.
Tho that thou seis stond in capis wyde ; Yone were quhilum2 folk of religioun, 2 once.
That from the warld thaire gouernance3 did hide, 3 conduct.
And frely seruit lufe on euery syde In secrete, with thaire bodyis and thaire gudis. And lo ! quhy so thai hingen doune thaire hndis :
For though that thai were hardy at assay4, 4 stout in trial.
And did him seruice quhilum priuely, Yit to the warldis eye it semyt nay ;
So was thaire seruice half [hot] cowardy :
And for thay first forsuke him opynly, And efter that thereof had repenting, For schame thaire hudis oure thaire eyne thay hyng.
And seis thou now yone multitude, on rawe5 5 in a row.
Standing, behynd yone trauerse of delyte1? Sum bene of thame that haldin were full lawe,
And take by frendis, nothing thay to wyte6, 6 blame.
In youth from lufe into the cloistere quite ; And for that cause are cummyn, recounsilit7, 7 *•«• reunited to
their mates.
On thame to pleyne that so thame had begilit.
And othir bene amongis thame also,
That cummyn ar to court, on Lufe to pleyne8, 8 complain.
For he thaire bodyes had bestowit so,
Quhare bothe thaire hertes gruchit9 ther-ageyne ; 9 rePined- MS- For quhich, in all thaire dayes, soth to seyne10, 10 truth to say.
Quhen othir lyvit in ioye and [in] plesance,
Thaire lyf was noght bot care and repentance ;
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
2 separating.
8
•I MS. s,
5 reason.
« Worse.
7 n-roM-n S tirij-lit.
And, quhare thaire hertis gevin were and set, Were coplit with othir that coud noght accord;
Thus were thai wrangit that did no forfet1, Departing- thame that neuer wold discord. Off yong ladies faire, and mony lord,
That thus by maistry were fro thair chose dryve3,
Full redy were thaire playntis there to gyve."
And othir also I sawe compleynyng there Vpon Fortune and hir grete variance,
That, quhe.re in lone so wele they coplit were, With thai™ suete makis coplit in plesance, Sche4 sodeynly maid thaire disseuerance,
And tuke thame of this warldis companye,
Withoutin cause, there was none othir quhy5.
And in a chiere of estate besyde,
With wingis bright, all plumyt, bot his face,
There sawe I sit the blynd god Cupide,
With bow in hand, that bent full redy was, And by him hang thre arowis in a cas,
Off quhich tho hedis grundyn were full ryght,
Off duierse metals forgit fair and bryght.
And with the first, that hedit is of gold, He smytis soft, and that has esy cure ;
The secund was of siluer, mony-fold
\Ycrs6 than the first, and harder auenture; The thrid, of stele, is schot without roctnv7 :
And on his long yalow lukkis schcne8
A chaplet had he all of levis
THE KIN CIS QUAIR,
49
And in a retrete lytill of compas,
Depeyntit1 all with sighis wonder sad,
Noght suich sighis as hertis doith manace2, Bot suich as dooth lufaris to be glad, Fond I Venus vpon hir bed, that had
A mantill cast ouer hir schuldris quhite :
Thus clothit was the goddesse of delyte.
Stude at the dure Fair-calling, hir vschere, That coude his office doon in connyng wise,
And Secretee, hir thrifty chamberere, That besy was in tyme to do seruise, And othir mo that I can noght on avise3;
And on hir hede, of rede rosis full suete,
A chapellet sche had, faire, fresch, and mete.
With quaking hert astonate of that sight, Vnnethis4 wist I quhat that I suld seyne;
Bot at the last febily, as I myght.
With my handis on bothe my kneis tueyne, There I begouth my caris to compleyne ;
With ane humble and lamentable chere
Thus salute I that goddesse bryght and clere.
" Hye Quene of Lufe ! sterre of beneuolence ! Pitouse princes, and planet merciable5 !
Appesare of malice and violence !
By vertew pure of your aspectis hable0, Vnto youre grace lat now bene acceptable
My pure request, that can no forthir gone
To seken help, bot vnto yow allone !
E II
1 Painted.
2 makes menace to hearts.
8 more, of whom I cannot tell.
4 Scarcely.
o merciful.
6 powerful.
50 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
As ye that bene the socoure and suete well Off remedye, of carefull hertes cure,
And, in the hug»: weltering wawis fell Off lufis rage, blissf ull havin and sure ; 0 anker and keye of our gude auenture,
1 conquered. ye haue your man with his gude-will conquest1 :
Merci, therefore, and bring his hert to rest !
Ye knaw the cause of all my peynes smert Bet than my-self, and all myn auenture
Ye may conuoye, and as yow list, conuert The hardest hert that formyt hath nature :
2 wholly. Sen in your handis all hale2 lyith my cure,
Haue pitee now, O bryght blisfull goddesse,
3 poor servant. „„ . . ,.
4 him- pity on. Oil your juiro man, and rew4 on his distresse !
And though I was vnto your lawis strange, By ignorance, and noght by felonye,
And that your grace now likit hath to change My hert, to seruen yow perpetualye,
5 prepare. Forgine all this, and shapith5 remedye
To sauen me of your benigne grace,
6 make me <iie. Or do me sterueii6 furth-with in this place.
And with the stremes of your percyng lyght Conuoy my hert, that is so wo-begone,
Ageyne vnto that sin-ti: hcvinly sight, That I, within the wallis cald as stone
7 in the morning. So suetly saw on morrow" walk and gone,
Law in the gardyn, ryght tofore myn eye : Now, merci, Quene ! and do me noght to deye."
THE KINGIS QUAIR.
Thir wordis said, my spirit in dispaire, A quhile I stynt, abiding, efter grace1 :
And there-with-all hir cristall eyen faire Sche2 kest asyde, and efter that a space, Benignely sche turnyt has hir face
Towardis me full pleasantly conueide ;
And vnto me ryght in this wise sche seide :
" Yong man, the cause of all thyne inward sorowe
Is noght vnknawin to my deite, And thy request, bothe now and eke toforowe3,
Quhen thou first maid professioun to me;
Sen of my grace I haue inspirit the To knawe my lawe, contynew furth, for oft, There as I mynt4 full sore, I smyte bot soft.
Paciently thou tak thyne auenture,
This will my sone Cupide, and so will I,
He can the stroke, to me langis5 the cure Quhen I se tyme, and therefor humily Abyde, and serue and lat Gude-hope the gye6 : Bot, for I haue thy forehede here present,
I will the schewe the more of myn entent.
This is to say, though it to me pertene In lufis lawe the septre to gouerne,
That the effectis of my bemes schene7 Has thaire aspectis by ordynance eterne, With otheris bynden, mynes to discerne,
Quhilum in thingis bothe to cum and gone,
That langis noght to me, to writh allone8 ;
1 stopped, wait- ing to find grace.
2 MS. Me.
3 formerly.
4 There where I aim.
5 belongs.
6 guide tliee.
7 bright.
8 i.e. My means of discern- ment, past and future, are bound up with others'
(powers); con- trol belongs not to me alone. MS. bind and.
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
1 For which reason.
2 i.e. other planet's influence.
8 control.
4 Until.
As in thyne awin case now may thou se, For-quhy1 lo, that [by] otheris influence2
Thy persone standis noght in libertee;
Quharefore, though I geve the beneuolence, It standis noght yit in myn aduertence8,
Till certeyne coursis endit be and ronne,
Quhill4 of trew seruis thow have hir graice i-wone.
And yit, considering the nakitnesse
Bothe of thy wit, thy persone, and thy myght,
It is no mach, of thyne vnworthynesse
To hir hie birth, estate, and beautee bryght : Als like ye bene, as day is to the nyght ; 5 crimson cloth. Or sek-cloth is vnto fyne cremesye5 ;
Or doken to the frefche dayesye.
6 bright.
7 MS. like unto May.
8 coats of arms. 0 arrayed alike. 10 parrot.
11 compare. MS. pererese.
12 assurance. is MS. than.
Vnlike the mone is to the sonne schene0;
Eke lanuarye is vnlike to May7 ; Vnlike the cukkow to the phylomene ;
Thaire tabartis8 ar noght bothe maid of array9 ;
Vnlike the crow is to the pape-iay10 ; Vnlike, in goldsmythia werk, a fischis eye To peire11 with peril, or maked be so heye.
As I haue said, vnto me belangith Specialy the cure of thy seknesse ;
Bot now thy matere so in balance hangith, That it requerith, «to thy sekernesse12, The help of othir mo that18 bene goddes,
And haue in thame the menes and the lore,
In this matere to schorten with thy
THE KING IS QUAIR.
S3
And for thou sail se wele that I entend, Vn-to thy help, thy welefare to preserue,
The straight weye thy spirit will I send To the goddesse that clepit is Mynerue, And se that thou hir hestis wele conserue,
For in this case sche may be thy supplye1,
And put thy hert in rest, als wele as I.
Bot, for the way is vncouth vnto the2, There as hir duelling is and hir soiurne,
I will that Gude-hope seruand to the be, Youre alleris frend3, to let the to niurn4, Be thy condyt and gyde till thou returne,
And hir besech that sche will, in thy nede,
Hir counsele geve to thy welefare and spede,
1 help.
2 unknown to thee.
3 Friend of you all.
4 to prevent thy mourning.
And that sche will, as langith hir office, Be thy gude lady, help and counseiloure,
And to the schewe hir rype and gude auise5, 5 advice.
Throw quhich thou may, be processe and laboure, Atteyne vnto that glad and goldyn floure,
That thou wald haue so fayn with all thy hart.
And forthir-more, sen thou hir seruand art,
Quhen thou descendis doune to ground ageyne, Say to the men that there bene resident,
How long think thay to stand in my disdeyne, That in my lawis bene so negligent From day to day, and list thame noght repent,
Bot breken louse, and walken at thaire large?
Is nocht eft none0 that thereof givis charge ?
6 There is not even one.
54 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
And for," quod sche, " the angir and the smert Off thaire vnkyndenesse dooth me constreyne,
My femynyne and wofull tender hert,
That than I wepe ; and, to a token pleyne, As of my teris cummyth all this reyne,
That ye se on the ground so fast ybete
Fro day to day, my turment is so grete.
i cease at And quhen I wepe, and stynten othir quhile1.
another time.
For pacience that is in womanhede, Than all my wrath and rancoure I exile ; And of my cristall teris that bene schede, The hony flouris growen vp and sprede, Spray. That preyen2 men, in thaire flouris wise,
Be trewe of lufe, and worschip my seruise.
And eke, in takin of this pitouse tale,
Quhen so my teris dropen on the ground, In thaire nature the lytill birdis smale s space of time. Styntith thaire song, and murnyth for that stound3,
And all the lightis in the hevin round 4 compassion. Off my greuance haue suich compacience4,
That from tlie ground they hiden tliaire presence.
And yit in tokenyng forthir of this thing,
Quhen flouris springs, and freschest bene of he\ve, Ami that the birdis on the twistis sing, 6 MS. to renew. At thilke tyme ay gynnen folk renewe5
That seruis vnto loue, as ay is dewe, Most coniiuonely has ay his obseruance, o former. \]}l\ nf thaire sleuth tofore* haue. ivp<-n!anr«-
THE KING IS QUAIR.
55
Thus maist thou seyne, that myn effectis grete, Vnto the quhich ye aughten maist weye1,
No lyte offense, to sleuth is [al] forget2 : And therefore in this wise to thame seye, As I the here haue bidden3, and conueye
The mater e all the better tof ore said4;
Thus sail on the my charge bene ilaid.
1 ought most to pay regard. MS. aught and.
2 owing to sloth is all forgotten.
3 MS. bid.
4 said before.
Say on than, ' Quhare is becummyn, for schame ! The songis new, the fresch carolis and dance,
The lusty lyf, the mony change of game, The fresche array, the lusty contenance, The besy awayte5, the hertly obseruance,
That quhilum was amongis thame so ryf?
Bid thame repent in ty'me, and mend thare lyf :
5 service (wait- ing upon).
Or I sail, with my fader old Saturne,
And with al hale6 oure hevinly alliance, 6 ail whole.
Oure glad aspectis from thame writh7 and turne, r remove.
That all the warld sail waile8 thairc gouernance. s bewail.
I '.id thame be-tyme that thai haue repentance, And [with] thaire hertis hale renew my lawe ; And I my hand fro beting sail withdraws.
This is to say, contynew in my seruise,
Worschip my law, and my name magnifye, That am your hevin and your paradise ;
And I your confort here sail multiplye,
And, for your meryt here, perpetualye Ressaue I sail your saulis of my grace, To lyvf with me as goddis in this place.'''
KING fAMES THE FIRST.
1 skill.
2 shortly to say. i.e. to be brief.
3 gate.
4 The sober retinue (?)
5 dignified.
6 timoroun humility.
"\Vith humble thank, and all the reuerence That feble wit and connyng1 may atteyne,
I tuke my leue ; and from hir presence, Gude-hope and I to-gider, bothe tueyne, Departit are, and, schortly for to seyne2,
He hath me led [be] redy way is ryght
Vnto Mineruis palace, faire and bryght.
Quhare as I fand, full redy at the yate3, The maister })ortrare, callit Pacience,
That frely lete vs in, vnquestionate ;
And there we sawe the perfyte excellence, The said renewe4, the state, the reuerence,
The strenth, the beautee, and the ordour digne5
Off hir court riall, noble and benigne.
And straught vnto the presence sodeynly Off dame Minerue, the pacient goddesse,
Gude-hope my gyde led me redily ;
To quliom anone, with dredefull humylnesse6, Off my cummyng the cause I gan expresse,
And all thr- processe hole, vnto the cml,
Off Venus charge, as likit hir to send.
Off quhich ryght thus hir ansuere was in bref : " My sone, I haue wele herd, and vnderstond,
Be thy reherse, the matere of thy gref, And thy request to procure, and to fonde7 < HI thy pi'iinaiice sum confort at my hond,
]'»• ri muscle of thy lady Venus clew,
To be with hir thyne holp in this matere.
THE KINGIS QUAfR.
57
Bot in this case thou sail wele knawe and witt, Thou may thy hert ground on suich a wise,
That thy laboure will be bot lytill quit1 ; And thou may set it in anothir wise2, That wil be to the grete worschip and prise ;
And gif thou durst vnto that way enclyne,
I will the geve my lore and disciplyne.
Lo, my gude sone, this is als mich to seyne3, As, gif thy lufe [be] sett all-uterly
Of nyee lust4, thy trauail is in veyne; And so the end sail turne of thy folye To payne and repentance ; lo, wate thou quhy5
Gif the ne list on lufe thy vertew set,
Vertu sail be the cause of thy forfet6.
Tak Him before in all thy gouernance,
That in His hand the stere7 has of you all ;
And pray vnto His hye purueyance8
Thy lufe to gye, and on Him traist and call, That corner-stone and ground is of the wall
That failis noght; and trust, withoutin drede,
Vnto thy purpose sone He sail the lede.
1 requited.
2 MS. in othir wise.
3 as much as to say.
4 Ou foolish desire.
5 know thou why.
6 disaster.
7 control.
8 providence.
For lo, the werk that first is foundit sure, May better bere a pace9 and hyare be,
Than othir-wise, and langere sail endure, Be monyfald, this may thy resoun see, And stronger to defend10 aduersitee :
Ground thy werk, therefore, vpon the stone,
And thy desire sail forthward with the gone.
9 stage, storey.
10 resist.
2 given forth by rule.
58 KINGJAMES THE FIRST.
Be trewe, and meke, and stedfast in thy thoght, And diligent hir merci to procure,
Noght onely in thy word, for word is noght ; Bot gif thy werk and all thy besy cure1 Accord thereto ; and vtrid be mesure2
The place, the houre, the maner, and the wise ;
Gif mercy sail admitten thy seruise.
All thing has tyme, thus sais Ecclesiaste; eii is it with. And wele is3 him that his tyme wel abit4. Abyde thy time ; for he that can bot haste Can noght of hap0, the wise man it writ; And oft gude fortune flourish with gude wit Quharefore, gif thou will be wele fortunyt, 6 joined. Lat wisedome aye to thy will be iunyt6.
4 abideth. MS. wil abit.
5 controls not fortune.
7 brittle, unre- Bot there be mony of so brukilF sort,
liable.
That feynis treuth in lufe for a quhile,
8 sport, delight. And sctten all thaire wittis and disport8
The sely innocent woman to begyle, And so to wynne thaire lustis with a wile ; Suich feynit treuth is all bot trechorye,
9 shade. Ynder the vmbre9 of hid ypocrisye.
For as the foulere quhistlith in his throte
Diucrsi'ly, to countcrfete the brid, And feynis mony a suete ami -tmn-e note,
10 bush. That in the busk10 for his desate11 is hid,
Till sche be fast lokin his net aniyd ; 12 deceiver. Kvght s" the fjitomv1-, the false theif, I say, With suctr trcsoun oft wynnitli thus his pray.
THE KINGIS QUAIR, 59
Fy on all suich ! fy on thaire doubilnesse !
Fy on thaire lust and bestly appetite ! Thaire wolfis hertis, in lambis liknesse ;
Thaire thoughtis blak, hid vnder wordis quhite ;
Fy on thaire laboure ! fy on thaire delyte ! That feynen outward all to hir honour, And in thaire hert hir worschip wold deuoure.
So hard it is to trusten now on dayes
The warld, it is so double and inconstant, Off quhich the suth is kid1 be mony assayes; i the truth is
More pitee is; for quhich the remanant,
That menen wele, and ar noght variant, For otheris gilt ar2 suspect of vntreuth, 2 MS. and.
And hyndrit oft, and treuely that is reuth.
Bot gif the hert be groundit ferme and stable
In Goddis law, thy purpose to atteyne, Thy laboure is to me agreable ;
And my full help, with counsele trew and pleyne,
I will the schewe, and this is the certeyne ; Opyn thy hert, therefore, and lat me se Gif thy remede be pertynent to me."
"Madame," quod I, "sen it is your plesance
That I declare the kynd of my loving, Treuely and gude, withoutin variance,
In lufe that floure abufe all othir thing ;
And wold bene be that to hir worscbipping Myght ought auaile, b« Him that starf on rude3, 3i>\- Him \\v.\\
ilied on cross.
And nouthir spare for trauaile, lyf, nor gude4. 4-oods.
6o
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
\ MS. Wald.
2 endure.
And forthirmore, as touching the nature Off my lufing, to worschip or to blame,
I darre wele say, and there-in me assure, For ony gold that ony wight can name Nold1 I be he that suld of hir gude fame
Be blamischere in ony point or wyse,
For wele nor wo, quhill my lyfe may suffise2.
3 MS. theffect. This is the effect3 trewly of myn entent,
Touching the suete that smertis me so sore,
4feigned(fauit?). (Jiff this be faynt4, I can it noght repent,
Ail-though my lyf suld forfaut be therefore, Blisful princes ! I can seye you no more ; 3t so desire my wittis dooth compace5,
5 desire so coin-
passes my i) without. More ioy in erth kepe I noght bot6 your grace."
7 I will not say it nay.
8 truly without deceit.
9 MS. That day sail I never up-rise.
10 covet.
11 honour.
12 jeopardy.
13 MS. it.
14 in course of
time.
15 Her honour safe.
10 lot.
"Desire," quod sclie, "I nyl it noght deny7, So thou it ground and set in Cristin wise ;
And therefore, sone, opyn thy liert playnly." "Madame," quod I, "trew withoutin fantise8, That day sail neucr be I sail vp-rise9
For my delyte to couate10 the plesance
That may hir worschip11 putten in balance12.
For oure all thing, lo, this were my gladnesse, To sene the fresche beautee of hir face ;
And gif I13 myght deserue, be processe14,
For my grete lufe and treuth, to atond in grace, Hir worschip sauf15, lo, here the blisfull cace16
That I wold ask, and thorf-to attend,
For my most ioye vnto my lyiis end."
THE KING IS QUA IK.
6 1
"Now wele," quod sche, "and sen that it is so, That in vertew thy lufe is set with treuth,
To helpen the I will be one of tho
From hensforth, and hertly without sleuth1, Off thy distresse and excesse to haue reuth
That has thy hert ; I will pray full faire
That Fortune be no more thereto contraire.
1 heartily with- out sloth.
For suth it is, that all ye creaturis
Quhich vnder vs beneth haue your duellyng
Ressauen diuersely your auenturis2,
Off quhich the cure and principall melling3 Apperit is4, withoutin repellyng5,
Onely to hir that has the cuttis two
In hand6, bothe of your wele and of your wo.
And how so be that sum clerkis trete, That all your chance7 causit is tofore
Heigh in the hevin, by quhois effectis grete Ye rnovit are to wrething8, lesse or more, Thar9 in the warld, thus calling that therefore
'Fortune,' and so that the diuersitee
Off thaire wirking10 suld cause necessitee.
2 Receive your courses of life variously.
3 care and chief guidance (lit. meddling).
4 Appertains.
5 recall.
6 i.e. Fortune.
riot.
8 action.
9 MS. Quhare.
10 working.
Bot othir clerkis halden that the man Has in him-self the chose11 and libertee
To cause his awin fortune, how or quhan That him best lest, and no necessitee Was in the hevin at his natiuitee,
Bot yit the thingis happin in commune
Efter purpose12, so cleping thame 'fortune.'
11 choice.
12 according to purpose.
62 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
quhare a persone has tofore knawing1 Off it that is to fall purposely, Lo, Fortune is hot wayke in suicli a thing, 2 note. Thou may wele wit'-', and here ensample quhy ;
s MS. it. To God, that3 is the first cause onely
Off euery thing, there may no fortune fall :
4 is previously ^nd quhy ? for he foreknawin is4 of all.
tin tirtf.
And therefore thus I say to this sentence;
5 strongest* and Fortune is most and strangest5 euermore
Quhare lest foreknawing or intelligence Is in the man ; and, sone, of wit or lore Sen thou are wayke and fehle, lo, therefore, • communion. The more thou art in dangere and commune''
With hir that clerkis clepen so Fortune.
Bot for the sake, and at the reuerence Off Venus clere, as I the said tofore,
I haue of thy distresse coinpacience ; 7 assuagement. And in confort and relesche7 of thy sore, s advice. The schewit [haue] here myn avise8 therefore ;
Pray fortune help, for mich vnlikly thing
Full oft about sche sodeynly dooth bring.
Now go thy way, and haue gude mynde vpone
9 toi^hi^thn Qunat ! naue sai(1 in way of thy doctryne9."
10 MS. he. "I sail, madame," quod I10; and ryght anone
I tuk my leve. Als straught as ony lyne, With-in a beme that fro the contree dyvine "whichrfie'SISt Sche> Percy«K throw the firmament, extendit11. from heaven"' To ground ageyiie my spirit is descendit.
THE KING IS QUAIR.
Quhare, in a lusty1 plane, tuke I my way, Endlang2 a ryuer, plesant to behold,
Enbroudin3 all with fresche flouris gay,
Quhare, throu the grauel, bryght as ony gold, The cristall water ran so clere and cold,
That, in myn ere maid contynualy
A maner soune, mellit4 with armony;
1 pleasant.
2 Along.
3 Embroidered, adorned.
4 A kind of sound,mingled.
That full of lytill fischis by the brym,
Now here, now there, with bakkis blewe as lede,
Lap and playit, and in a rout can swym
So prattily, and dressit5 thame to sprede 5 addressed.
Thaire curall0 fynnis, as the ruby rede, 6 coral.
That in the sonne on thaire scalis bryght
As gesserant7 ay glitterit in my sight : 7 shining mail.
And by this ilke ryuer-syde alawe8 Ane hye-way fand I like to bene9,
On quhich, on euery syde, a long rawe Off treis saw I, full of leuis grene, That full of fruyte delitable were to sene10 ;
And also, as it come vnto my mind,
Off bestis sawe I mony diuerse kynd :
The lyoun king, and his fere11 lyonesse ;
The pantere, like vnto the smaragdyne1- ; The lytill squerell, full of besynes-e ;
The slawe ase, the druggare beste of pyne18 ;
The nyce14 ape ; the werely15 porpapyne ; The percyng lynx ; the lufare vnicorne16, That voidis venym with his euour17 home.
8 down by this same river-side.
9 like as it were.
10 to l»e seen.
11 companion.
12 emerald.
13 drudging beast of pain.
14 foolish.
15 warlike.
16 the"lover uni- corn " was to be taken Satu- son-like, by maiden hiivs.
17 ivory.
64
KING JAMES THE FIKST.
lactiv,-.
2 cruelty.
a standing.
4 climbing goat.
5 elk strong.
against missiles.
oheark'mng
7 badger good
for hurts.
8 plants.
9 ox.
12 skilful. is MS. say. H skilful.
17 in haste.
19 MsTspide!
20 lodging. Mod.
re90rt-
21 clinging I «aw.
There sawe I dresse him new out of [his] haunt
The fery1 tigere, full of felonye2; The dromydare ; the standar3 oliphant ;
The wyly fox, the wedowis inemye ;
The clymbare gayte4; the elk for alblastrye5; Ihe herknere bore0; the holsum grey for hortis' ; The haire also, that oft gooth to the wortis8.
The bugill9, draware by his hornis grete ;
'^ne niartrik10, sable, the foynyee11, and mony mo ; The chalk-quhite ermyn, tippit as the iete;
The riall hert, the conyng12, and the ro ;
The wolf, that of the murthir noght sayis13 " Ho ! " The lesty14 beuer, and the ravin bare15 ; For chamelot10, the camel full of hare ;
With mony ane-othir beste diuerse and strange, That cummyth noght as now vnto my rnynd.
Bot now to purpose, — straucht furtli the range I held a-way, oure-hailing in my mynd From quhenes I come, and quhare that I suld fynd
Fortune, the goddesse, vnto quhom in hye17
Gude-hope, my gyde, has led me sodeynly.
And at the last, behalding thus asyde, A round place, wallit, haue I found;
In niyddis quhare eftsone18 I have aspide19
Fortune, the goddesse, hufing20 on the ground ; And ryght before hir fete, of compas round,
A quhele, on quhich cleuering I sye21
A multitude of folk before myn eye.
THE KING IS QUAIR.
And ane surcote sche werit1 long that tyde, l wore-
That seniyt to me of diuerse hewis, Quhilum thus, quhen sche wald [hir] turne asyde,
Stude this goddesse of fortune and [of glewis2] ; 2 sports, freaks.
A chapellet, with mony . f resche anewis3 Sche had vpon her hed ; and with this hong A mantill on hir schuldris, large and long.
3 little rings. Fr. anneau.
That furrit was with ermyn full quhite, JJegoutit with the self4 in spottis blake :
And quhilum in hir chiere5 thus a lyte6
Louring sche was ; and thus sone it wold slake" And sodeynly a maner8 smylyng make,
An9 sche were glad ; [for] at one contenance
Sche held noght, bot [was] ay in variance.
And vnderneth the quhele sawe I there Ane vgly pit, depe as ony helle,
That to behald thereon I quoke for fere; Bot o thing herd I, that quho there-in fell Come no more vp agane, tidingis to telle ;
Off quhich, astonait of that ferefull syght,
I ne wist quhat to done, so was I fricht10.
4 self-spotted.
5 cheer, demeanour.
6 a little.
7 slacken, cease. S manner of.
9 If. MS. And.
10 aflriglited.
Bot for to se the sudayn weltering
Off that ilk quhele, that sloppare11 was to hold 11 slippery. It semyt vnto my wit a strange12 thing, 12 MS. stro»g.
So mony I sawe that than clymben wold,
And failit foting, and to ground were rold ; And othir eke, that sat aboue on hye, Were ouerthrawe in twinklyng of ane eye.
F II
66
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
v' °'
And on the quhele was lytill void space,
Wele nere oure-straught1 fro lawo vnto2 bye ;
And they were ware3 that long sat in place,
So tolter quhilum did sche it to-wrye4; turned itawry. There wag bofc ciymbe and ryght dounward hye5
5 hasten.
And sum were eke that fallyng had [so] sore, There for to ciymbe thaire corage was no more.
I sawe also that, quhere sum were slungin, Be quhirlyng of the quhele, vnto the ground,
6 thrust them np. fn]\ sudaynly sche hath [thaim] vp ythrungin0,
And set thame on agane full sauf and sound : And euer I sawe a new swarme abound, That [thought] to ciymbe vpward vpon the quhele
7 go round. Jn stede of thame that myght no langer rele7.
11 stands.
"croa»an t
s MS. preaene. And at the last, in presence8 of thame all
9 called. That stude about, sche clepit9 me be name ;
And therewith apon kneis gan I fall
10 saluting. j^n sodaynly hailsing10, abaist for schame;
And, smylyng thus, sche said to me in game, "Quhat dois thou here? Quho has the hider sent? Say on anone, and tell me thyne entent
I se wele, by thy chere and contenance, There is sum thing that lyis the on hert,
It stant11 noght with the as thou wald, perchance?" "Madame," quod I, "for lufe is all the smert That euer I fele, endlang and ouerthwert12. ttMk»u and Help, of your grace, me wofull wrechit wight,
theshortofit
_
Sen18 me to cure ye powere haue^and myght.
THE KIN CIS QUAIR.
" Quhat help," quod sche, "wold thou that I ordeyne, To bring the vnto thy hertis desire?"
" Madame," quod I, " bot that your grace dedeyne1, i deign. Off your grete myght, my wittis to enspire, To win the well that slokin may the fyre
In quhich I birn. A, goddesse fortunate !
Help now my game, that is in point to mate2."
2 on point of being check- mated.
3 truly helpless wretch.
" Off mate 1 " quod sche, " 0 ! verray sely wrech3, I se wele by thy dedely coloure pale,
Thou art to feble of thy-self to streche Vpon my quhele, to clymbe or to hale4 Withoutin help; for thou has fundin stale5
This mony day, withoutin werdis wele6,
And wantis now thy veray hertis hele7.
Wele maistow be a wrechit man callit,
That wantis the comfort suld8 thy hert glade ;
And has all thing within thy hert stallit9, That may thy youth oppressen or defade10. Though thy begynnyng hath bene retrograde,
Be froward opposyt quhare till aspert11,
Xow sail thai turne, and luke on the dert12."
And therewith -all vnto the quhele in hye13
Sche hath me led, and bad me lere14 to clymbe, H learn.
Ypon the quhich I steppit sudaynly.
"Now hald thy grippis," quod sche, "for thy tyme, Ane houre and more it rynnis ouer prime ;
To count the hole, the half is nere away;
Spend wele, therefore, the remanant of the day.
4 haul.
5 found stall (prison).
6 happy fate.
7 health.
S MS. that suld.
9 installed.
10 dispirit.
11 Opposed by froward men towards whom thou art exas- perated.
12 dirt.
13 in haste.
1 thes folk before (thee).
68 KINGJAMES THE FIRST.
Ensample," quod sclie, "tak of this tofore1,
That fro my quhele be rollit as a ball ; For the nature of it is euermore,
2 descend. After aue hicht, to vale2 and geue a fall,
s to cause to fail. Thus, quhen me likith, vp or doune to fall3. Fare-wele," quoh sche, and by the ere me toke So ernestly, that therewithull I woke.
4 restless spirit. 0 besy goste4 ! ay flikering to and fro, That neuer art in quiet nor in rest, Till thou cum to that place that thou cam fro, Quhich is thy first and verray proper nest : From day to day so sore here artow drest5,
o always whii.- That with thy flesche av walking6 art in trouble,
waking.
"pain. And sleping eke; of pyne" so has thou double.
8 MS. Couert. Towart8 my-self all this mene I to loke-'.
9 have regard.
Though that my spirit vexit was tofore
In sueuenyng10, alssone as euer I woke
11 MS. xxtyfoid. By twenty-fold11 it was in trouble more,
Bethinking me with sighing hert and sore That [I] nane othir thingis hot dremes had,
12 certainty. ^or gekernes12, my spirit with to glad.
13 a'tdrewed.
14 Filled full.
15 MS. in.
And therewith sone I dressit13 me to ryse, Fulfild14 of thoght, pyne, and aduersitee ;
And to my-self I said vpon15 this wise ;
" A ! merci, Lord ! quhat will ye do with me ? Quhat lyf is this? quhare hath my spirit be]
Is this of my forethoght impressioun,
Or is it from the hevin a visioun?
THE KING IS QUAIR.
69
And gif ye goddis, of youre puruiance1, a providence.
Haue schewit this for my reconforting, In relesche2 of my furiouse pennance, 2 assuagement.
I yow beseke full humily of this thing. That of youre grace I myght haue more takenyng3, 3 token. Gif it sal be as in my slepe before Ye sbewit haue." And forth, withoutin more,
In hye vnto the wyndow gan I walk, Moving within my spirit of this sight,
Quhare sodeynly a turture4, quhite as chalk5, So evinly vpon my hand gan lyght, And vnto me sche turnyt hir full ryght ;
Off quham the chere in hir birdis aport6
Gave me in hert kalendis of confort7.
This fair bird ryght in hir bill gane hold Of red iorofflis8 with thair stalkis grene
A fair branche, quhare writtin was with gold,
On euery list9, with branchis bryght and schene10 In compas fair, full plesandly to sene11,
A plane sentence, quhich, as I can deuise
And haue in mynd, said ryght on this wise :
"Awak ! awake ! I bring, lufar12, I bring The newis glad, that blisfull bene and sure
Of ^hy confort; now lauch, and play, and syng, That art besid13 so glad ane auenture ; For in the hevyn decretit is the cure14."
And vnto me the flouris fair present15 :
With wyngis spred, hir way is furth sche went.
4 turtle-dove.
5 MS. calk.
6 demeanour.
7 beginnings of comfort.
8 gillyflowers.
bright and beautiful. 11 pleasant to see.
12 lover.
18 near to.
14 cure is dec reed thee.
KING JAMES THE FIRST.
lere.
a took.
3 MS. Qnliich hensftrth.
4 That to my freedom.
.„„
supposition"
7 MS. vi. or vii,
8 sweet, happiness.
» liberty. 10 means.
n Ma this.
Quhilk vp a-none I tuke, and as I gesse, Ane hundreth tymes, or1 I forthir went,
I haue it red, with hertfull glaidnese ;
And, half with hope, and half with dred, it hent2, And at my beddis hed, with gud entent,
I haue it fair pynnit vp, and this
First takyn was of all my help and blisse.
The quhich treuly efter, day be day, That all my wittis maistrit had to fore,
From hennesferth3 the paynis did away.
And schortly, so wele Fortune has hir bore, To quikin treuly day by day my lore,
To my larges that4 I am cumin agayne,
To blisse with hir that is my souirane.
Bot for als moche as sum micht think or seyne, Quhat nedis me, apoun so litill evyn5, To writt all this ? I ansuere thus ageyne, —
Quho that from hell Avar croppin onys in hevin6, "\Yald efter o thank for ioy mak sex or sevyn7 : And euery wicht his awin suete8 or sore Has maist in mynde : I can say you no more.
Eke quho may in this lyfe haue more plesance Than cum to largesse9 from thraldom and peyne,
And by the mene10 of Luffis ordinance, That has so mony in his goldin cheyne? Quhich thinkis11 to wyn his hertis souereyne,
Quho suld me wite12 to write thar-of, lat se ! Btlfficiante is my felicitee.
THE KIN CIS QUAIR.
1 relieve.
2 honour.
Beseching vnto fair Venus abufe,
For all my brethir that bene in this place,
This is to seyne, that seruandis ar to Lufe, And of his lady can no thank purchase, His paine relesch1, and sone to stand in grace,
Boith to his worschip2 and to his first ese ;
So that it hir and resoune noght displese :
And eke for thame that ar noght entrit inne The dance of lufe, bot thidder-wart on way,
In gude tyme and sely3 to begynne.
Thair prentissehed, and forthir-more I pray For thame that passit ben the mony affray
In lufe, and cumrnyn4 ar to full plesance,
To graunt thame all, lo ! gude perseuerance :
And eke I pray for all the hertis dull, That lyven here in sleuth and ignorance,
And has no curage at the rose to pull, Thair lif to mend and thair saulis auance With thair suete lore, and bring thame to gude chance ;
And quho that will noght for this prayer turne,
Quhen thai wald faynest speid, that thai may spurne5. 5 '{£<,*
To rekyn of euery-thing the circumstance, As hapnit me quhen lessen gan my sore,
Of my rancoxire and [of my] wofull chance, It war to long, I lat it be tharefor. And thus this floure0, I can seye no more,
So hertly has vnto my help attendit,
That from the deth hir man sche has defendit.
3 seasonable.
4 MS. cunnyng.
6 '•'• flow*r °,f womanhood.
72 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
i working. And eke the goddis mercifull virking1,
For my long pane and trewe seruice in lufe, That has me gevin halely myn asking, Quhich has my hert for euir sett abufe In perfyte ioye, that neuir may remufe, Bot onely deth : of quhom, in laud and prise2, With thankfull hert I say richt in this wise : —
2 praise.
3 may.
4 axle-tiw.
"Blissit mot8 be the goddis all,
So fair that glitteren in the firmament !
And blissit be thare myght celestiall,
That haue convoyit hale, with one assent, My lufe and to [so] glade a consequent!
And thankit be Fortunys exiltree4
And quhele, that thus so wele has quhirlit me.
Thankit mot be, and fair and lufe befall
The nychtingale, that, with so gud entent, Sang thare of lufe the notis suete and small,
Quhair my fair hertis lady was present, •> "**• Hir with to glad, or5 that sche forthir went !
« gillyflower. And thou gerofloure6, mot i-thankit be All othir flouris for the luf of the !
7 saint* of Hmii.
8 liapi»Mi'-'l tn me.
9 healing.
And thaukit be the fair castell wall,
Quhare as I quhilom lukit furth and lent.
Thankit mot be the sanctis marciall7, That me first causit hath this accident. Thankit mot be the grene bewis bent,
Throu quhom, and vnder, first fortunyt me8
My hertis hele°, and my confort to be.
THE KING IS QUAIR.
73
For to the presence suete and delitable,
Eycht of this floure that full is of plesance,
By processe and by menys fauorable, First of the blisful goddis purueyance1, And syne2 throu long and trew contynuance
Of veray3 faith in lufe and trew seruice,
I cum am, and [yit] forthir in this wise.
Vnworthy, lo, bot onely of hir grace, In lufis yok, that esy is and sure,
In guerdoune of all my lufis space4
Sche hath me tak, hir humble creature. And thus befell my blisfull auenture,
In youth, of lufe, that now from day to day
Flourith ay newe, and yit forthir, I say.
Go litill tretise, nakit of eloquence,
Causing simplese and pouertee to wit5;
And pray the reder to haue pacience Of thy defaute, and to supporten it6, Of his gudnese thy brukilnese to knytt7.
And his tong for to reule and to stere,
That thy defautis helit may bene here.
1 providence.
2 afterwards.
3 true.
4 duration.
5 simplicity and poverty to be known.
0 to bear with it.
7 thy brokenness to piece together.
Allace ! and gif thou cummyst in the presence,
Quhare as8 of blame faynest thou wald be quite, swhewtnat. To here thy rude and cmkit eloquens,
Quho sal be thare to pray for thy remyt9?
No wicht, bot geve10 hir merci will admytt The for Gild-will, that is thy gyd and stere : To quhame for me thou pitousely requere11.
9 excuse.
10 Xo person, unless.
11 do thou piteously entreat.
74 KING JAMES THE FIRST.
IMS. fotaii. And thus endith the fatall1 influence
Causit from hevyn, quhare power is commytt Of gouirnance, by the magnificence Of Him that hiest in the hevin sitt;
2 iis" twnk8' ^° Qu^am we ^ank2 that all oure [lif] hath writt,
3 Who could Quho coutht it red, agone syne mony a yere3,
read it many a „.,..,, . c ,
year ago. Hich in the lievyiims figure circulere.
;<H
4 hymns. Vnto fthel impnis4 of mv maisteris dere,
MS. inpnis.
Gowere and Chaucere, that on the steppis satt Of rethorike quhill thai were lyvand here, Superlatiue as poetis laureate, In moralitee and eloquence ornate, I recommend my buk in lynis sevin, And eke thair saulis vn-to the blisse of hevin. Amen.
Quod explicit Jacobus Primus, Scotorum Rex Illustrissimus.
GOOD COUNSEL.
[From "The Gude and Godlie Ballates," 1578.]
SEN throw vertew incressis dignitie,
And vertew is flour and rute of noblesse ay,
Of ony wit, or quhat estait thow be,
His steppis follow, and dreid for none effray1 : Eject vice, and follow treuth alway :
Lufe inaist thy God that first thy lufe began,
And for ilk2 inche he will the quyte3 ane span.
Be not ouir* proude in thy prosperitie, For as it cummis, sa will it pas away ;
The tyme to compt5 is schort, thow may weill se, For of grene gress sone cummis wallowit6 hay. Labour in treuth, quhilk suith is of thy fay7 ;
Traist maist in God, for he best gyde the can,
And for ilk inche he will the quyte ane span.
1 fear no affright ing.
2 each.
3 requite.
5 count, reckon
6 withered.
7 which is the truth (sub- stance) of thy faith.
Sen word is thrall, and thocht is only fre,
Thou dant8 thy toung, that power hes and may0, J f™*
Thou steik10 thy ene fra warldis vanitie : 10 Close thou.
Refraine thy lust, and harkin quhat I say : Graip or11 thow slyde, and keip furth12 the hie-way,
Thou hald the fast upon thy God and man,
And for ilk inche he will the quyte ane span.
Quod King James the First.
ROBERT HENRYSON.
ROBERT HENRYSON.
LINKING the latter days of the First James to the brilliant age of James the Fourth shines the name of Robert Henryson, writer of the earliest Scottish pastoral. First of the greater Scottish makars whose life and work bore no direct relation to the political history of the country, the Dunfermline poet struck on the national lyre certain sweet and quaint new keys which ring yet with an undiminished charm, and preserve for him a unique place among the master- singers of the north.
Little is known of the personal history of this " most exquisite of the Scottish Chaucerians." According to the tradition of last century he was the representative of the family of Henryson or Henderson of Fordell in Fife ; and in Douglas's Baronage of Scotland he is stated to have been the father of James Henderson, King's Advocate and Lord Justice-Clerk in the reign of James IV., who redeemed the family lands and had them erected into a barony in 1510. Of these facts, however, though possible and even probable enough, there exists no absolute proof. In the Chartulary of Dunfermline there are three deeds dated March 1477-8, and July 1478, by Henry, Abbot of Dunferm- line, granting to George de Lothreisk and Patrick
8o ROBERT HENRYSON.
Baron the lands of Spitalfield near Inverkeithing. To each of these documents the name of Mayit1*r Robertus Henryson, notarius publicus, is appended as witness. From the title of notary public Dr. Irving, in his History of Scottish Poetry, infers that Henryson was probably an ecclesiastic, and could therefore have no legitimate offspring. It has to be noted, however, that Henryson is nowhere styled dericus or presbyter, the usual titles of churchmen. By an Act of James III., moreover, in 1469, laymen had been admitted to act as notaries in matters civil. It is quite possible, therefore, that the poet may have been the father of the Lord Justice-Clerk who fell with James IV. at Flodden. Whether this was the case, however, and whether the lands of Fordell had formerly belonged to the family of Henryson, and had been wadsett or alienated by them previous to the acqui- sition by the Justice-Clerk,* are questions hardly likely to find conclusive settlement now.
In one of his works Henryson describes himself as "ane man of age," and Sir Francis Kynaston, who translated the Testament of Cresseid into Latin verse in the time of Charles I., stated upon what seems good authority that the poet " being very old, died of a diarrhoea or flux." It is certain that he had passed away before 1506, for Dunbar, in his well-known " Lament for the Makaris," written about that year, says of Death —
In Dunfermelyue he hes done roun With gud Maister Robert Henrisoun.
* See Appendix to Laing's edition of Henryson, pp. 44-5.
K OBER T HENR YSON. 8 1
Laing therefore conjectures that we cannot greatly err in supposing the poet to have been born not later than the year 1425. From the general tone, no less than the various classical allusions in his work, it might be gathered that he had received an education unusually liberal for laymen of that age. This is made certain by the fact that he is uniformly styled Master Robert Henryson, a title confined exclusively in those days to persons who had taken an academic degree. His name, nevertheless, does not appear on the registers of St. Andrews, at that time the only university in Scotland, and it must therefore be in- ferred that he pursued or completed his studies at some foreign university, such as Louvain or Paris. This was a custom from an early date in Scotland. In 1365 and 1368, as Ave know from existing permits, John Barbour, Archdeacon of Aberdeen, and others passed through England to France for purposes of scholarship ; and fifty years after Henryson's time there was hardly a university in Europe which did not count among its members wandering Scottish scholars like George Buchanan and the Admirable Crichton. Glasgow University, the second in Scot- land, was founded by a bull of Pope Nicholas V. in 1451, and among those incorporated as members appears on 10th September 1462, "the venerable Master Robert Henryson^ Licentiate in Arts and Bachelor in Decrees." Such a title would imply that the poet had qualified for the legal profession, and upon the strength of this Laing suggests that "although no such record is preserved, it is by no
82 ROBER T HENR YSOtf.
means improbable that he became a Fellow of Glasgow University for the purpose of reading lectures in law." But it seems as likely that his enrolment, with that of others, was for the purpose of giving weight and dignity to the new foundation.
Whatever may have been his functions as a notary public, Henryson, according to common tradition, followed the occupation of schoolmaster in Dunferm- line. He is so designated first on the title of his Fables in 1570 and 1571, and again on the edition of his " Cresseid " in 1593. Various conjectures have been hazarded as to the exact professional position of the poet.* It is now, however, well known t that a "Sang Scule" existed at an early period in almost every one of the cathedral cities of Scotland, as well as in many of the smaller towns. The "Sang Scule" of Aberdeen, the most famous of these ancient institutions, is believed to have existed as early as 1370, and so popular did it become that it attracted teachers of even continental fame. The original purpose of these " scules " was the instruction of youths in the music and Latin necessary for proper performance of the church services. Gradually, however, other branches of instruction were added, until the institutions assumed the complete functions of grammar schools. Lain- quotes from the Privy Council Register of 13th
* Lord Hailes' Ancient Scottish Poemt, p. 273 ; Sibbald's Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, vol. i., p. 87 ; and Chalmers' Preface to " Robene and Makyne," &c., p. vii., note 2,
t See an interesting article on "Music in Early Scotland " by Mr. J. Cuthbort Hadden in the Scottish Rcvirtr for October 1888.
R OBER T HENR YSON. 83
October 1573 a complaint at the instance of "John Henrysou of the Grammar School within the Abbey of Dunfermline," which states that " he and his predecessors had continued Masters and Teachers of the youth, in letters and doctrine, to their great commodity, within the said school, past memory of man, admitted thereto by the Abbots of Dunfermling for the time," &c. This, Avithout doubt, was the school of which the poet was in his time chief master, and curiously enough it is the only " sang scule " in Scotland of which traces still remain. According to Mr. Cuthbert Hadden, "the precentor of the parish church of Dunfermline still enjoys a yearly salary of £8, 6s. 8d. as teacher of music in the Sang or Grammar School, which is a sinecure."
No further facts of Henryson's life are known, though it may be possible to conjecture something of the poet's character and experience from the character and tone of his work. Twelve years of age when the poet-king, James I., was slain at Perth, the greater part of his life was comprised in the reigns of James II. and James III., the darkest and most stormy period of Stuart rule in Scotland, and though it cannot be supposed that he had any personal share in the troubles of the time, their shadow can be distinctly seen resting here and there upon his verse. A quiet, thoughtful man he appears to have been, who, as the echoes of the changeful strife without reached him in his still abbey Avalk, came to ask himself what were the true ideals and the meaning of human existence. The answer at
84 RORER T HENR YSON.
which he arrived is to be read everywhere between the lines of his poems.
Henryson's works have been preserved scattered amid the following collections : — The Asloan MS. in the Auchinleck Library, the Bannatyne MS. and Gray's MS. in the Advocates' Library, the Maitland MS. in the Pepysian Library at Cambridge, the Harleian MS. in the British Museum, and Makculloch's MS. which was in the .possession of his editor, Laing. Of edi- tions of the separate poems there may be mentioned " Orpheus and Eurydice," printed by Chepman & Millar in 1508, the "Moral Fables" by Lekprevik in 1570, and the " Testament of Cresseid " by Henry Charteris in 1593. From the Bannatyne MS., in which are included the greater number of Henryson's existing poems, the Bannatyne Club printed "Robene and Makyne" and "The Testament of Cresseid" in 1824; and in 1832 the Maitland Club reprinted the "Moral Fables " from an edition of 1621. The poet's works, however, did not exist in complete collected form until 1865, in which year an edition, "leaving nothing to be desired," was edited by David Laing and published at Edinburgh.
"The Testament of Cresseid" has generally been esteemed the greatest of Henryson's compositions, though it cannot be considered the most complete. h -u tiers from the fact that it forms the sequel to a poem by another writer. Upon reading Chaucer, whose works had but lately been printed, the Scottish poet appears to have been struck by the unjust ending of the tale of "Troilus and Creseide." In
ROBER T HENR YSON. 85
that tale, while the noble Troilus perishes on the battlefield, the false Creseide is left living with Diomed. To remedy this defect, and bring about a catastrophe more in accordance with poetic justice, Henryson wrote his episode. This formed part of the contents of the lost folios of the Asloan MS. (1515), and Laing conjectures that it was probably printed by Chepman & Millar with other works of Henryson in 1508; but so close a relation did it bear to Chaucer's poem, and so much did it enhance the interest of the narrative, that it was included, without its author's name, in all the early editions of the English poet after 1532. "It was even," says Laing, "enumerated in the list of Chaucer's works by Leland, Bale, and other early writers, who seem never to have heard of the name of Henryson." The true authorship of the "Testament" was first acknowledged in 1635 by Sir Francis Kynaston in the introduction to his Latin translation of "Troilus and Creseid." " For the author of this supplement," he says, "called the Testament of Creseid, which may pass for the sixth and last book of this story, I have very sufficiently been informed by Sir Thomas Erskine, late Earle of Kelly, and divers aged scholars of the Scottish nation, that it was made and written by one Mr. Robert Henderson, sometime chiefe Schoolemaster in Dunfermling, much about the time that Chaucer was first printed ; and dedicated to King Henry VIII. by Mr. Thinne, which was neere the end of his raigne" (i.e., in 1532).
The historian of Scottish poetry has remarked that
86 ROBER T HENR YSON.
" for ' the tale of Troy divine ' neither Chaucer nor Henryson had recourse to the classical sources. This, like some other subjects of ancient history, had been invested with all the characteristics of modern romance. The personages are ancient, but the institutions and manners are all modern." At another place, adverting to the poet's account of Mercury, the same writer expresses the hope " that Henryson taught one system of mythology to his scholars, and adopted another for the embellishment of his poetry." Such freedom of treatment, however, wa.s common to all the writers as well as the painters of the time, and it detracts little from the actual value and beauty of the poem. The chief objection to the "Testament of Cresseid " has been that in alllicting the heroine with so loathsome a disease as leprosy Henryson departed from the delicacy of Chaucer's original work. Godwin, the biographer of Chaucer, observes: "Henryson perceived what tht-re was defective in the close of the story of Troilus and Creseide as Chaucer left it ; but the Scottish poet was incapable of rising to the refine- ment, or conceiving the delicacies of the English poet; though it must be admitted that in the single instance of the state of mind, the half-recognition, half- ignorance, attributed to Troilus in his last encounter with Creseide, there is a felicity of conception impossible to be surpassed. In some respects the younger poet has clearly the advantage over the more ancient. There is in his piece abundance of incident, of imagery, and of painting, without tediousness, with scarcely one of those lagging, impertinent, and un-
ROBER T HENR YSON. 87
meaning lines, with which the production of Chaucer is so frequently degraded." With the latter part of this criticism Dr. Merry Ross * entirely agrees, saying of the lament of Cresseid in the spittal-house in particular, " The pathos throughout is so sweet and tender, the imagery so rich and various, the word- painting so felicitous, in spite of an excessive allitera- tion, that we venture to pronounce this part of the poem the highest achievement of Henryson's genius." Attention may be drawn to the opening of the poem as a passage of singular charm. Nothing could be happier than the introduction, wherein the poet, after regarding from his chamber the beauty of the frosty night outside, mends the lire, comforts his spirits with " ane drink," and, taking a book in. hand, settles himself " to cut the winter nicht and mak it schort." And altogether, there can be no question that in the " Testament of Cresseid " the Scottish makar has, to quote his editor, " produced as a distinct episode a picture of touching pathos and beauty."
" Orpheus and Eurydice," a metrical version of the well known classical story, of equal length with the " Testament of Cresseid," has been attributed alter- nately to the early years and to the old age of the poet. Holding close to the incidents of the tale as narrated by Virgil and Ovid, it certainly exhibits little of the master-touch seen in its sister composition, and may be considered as chiefly of note for illustrating its author's familiarity with the classic learning of his time.
* Scottish History and Literature, p. 165.
88 KOBER T HENR YSON.
Most b\ilky and perhaps best known of Henryson's works is his series of " Moral Fables." These claim to be Scottish metrical versions of thirteen of the fables of /Esop, each with a moral appended, and the whole introduced by two prologues. Of the Latin collection of fables attributed to the Phrygian vEsop, it is conjectured that the first printed edition was made at Kome in the year 1473, and that proving extremely popular, the work was translated before long into most European languages. At anyrate, collections of such apologues, under the names of .'Esop, Avianus, and other ancient writers, afforded popular amuse- ment for all classes of people towards the end of the fifteenth century. Which of these collections Henryson used as a model is not known, but it is believed, from their allusions to the corruptions and disturbances of the time, that his own " Moral Fables " were written between the years 1470 and 1480, and he has the credit of being one of the first of the British poets to employ the apologue as a distinct class of literature. In telling these stories Henryson departs from the terse manner of his classic models, and his work bears little likeness to the short, neat fables of Gay and La Fontaine. His tales are full of descriptive imagery, pleasant dialogue, humorous incident, and allusions to the everyday life and manners of his time. He had the artistic instinct to perceive that such productions take their chief value from the human sentiment behind them. So much, indeed, has he raised the interest of the narratives by the reflection in them of human feeling and character
ROBERT HENRYS ON. 89
that he may be said to have by them added to literature a novel and fascinating poetic form. From the fable which has generally been considered his best, "The Taill of the Uplandis Mous and the Burges Mous," a good deal is to be gathered, as one critic has pointed out, of the social institutions of Henryson's age. Among other details the town mouse, a "gild- brother " and " free burges," when she travels to visit her upland sister, who lives " as outlawis dois," goes barefoot and with pikestaff in her hand, " as pure pilgrym." Some light is even cast upon the diet of those days — wine, cheese, thraf-cakes, and " all the coursis that cuikis culd defyne." But if manners have altered, human nature has not changed. The modern reader is tempted to smile in curious recognition of the city inadame who, when offered the plain fare of her sister's shieling, " prompit furth in pryde." In short, under the guise of apologue this and the other twelve fables present us with pictures of real life whose shrewd accuracy is all the more delightful that it is veiled behind a playful name.
Henryson's shorter pieces are marked no less strongly than his more ambitious works with the individuality of their author. Among them " The Bludy Serk " has been called one of the earliest specimens of ballad writing. But it is in reality a subtle allegory which might have afforded Bunyan a suggestion for his episode of Giant Despair. A better example of the poet's allegorical fancy is found in " The Garmond of Gude Ladeis," a typical work of its kind, containing a touch or two, as in the third verse,
90 ROB EX T HENR YSON.
which our modern tongue could hardly approach. The other short poems, like " The Abbay Walk " and " The Prais of Aige," with their gentle temper and pensive benignity, bring the reader nearest, perhaps, to the character of the poet himself.
It is by his single short pastoral, however, that Henryson, after all has been said, is likely to linger longest in the memory of the reader. " Robene and Makyne " is the earliest specimen of pastoral poetry in the language, but in no respect does it fall short of later efforts in the same field. Dr. Irving, indeed, considered it " superior in many respects to the similar attempts of Spenser and Browne," finding it " free from the glaring improprieties which sometimes appear in the pastorals of those distinguished writers," while Dr. Merry Ross declared it to be " one of the loveliest pastorals in all literature." Every point in the poem is true to nature, and every stanza strikes a chord in the common heart of humanity. Nothing could be more profoundly pathetic than the lines beginning " Robene that warld is all away," simple as the words appear ; and when the poem has been read throughout, the whole remains in the mind, clear and vivid, a picture to which no touch could add effect.
In this poem, within a brief compass, is perhaps to be discovered the main secret of Henrj'son's charm. Here the art and the heart of the master-singer are revealed together — the lines are still lightened by a quaint and kindly humour while his pen is touching the tender fountains of passion and regret.
ROBENE AND MAKYNE.
OBEXE sat on gud grene hill,
Kepand a flok of fe1 ; Mirry Makyne said him till2,
"Robene, thow rew on me3; I haif thd luvit lowd and still4
Thir yeiris two or thre ; My dule in dern bot gif thow dill5, Doutless but dreid I defi."
Robene answerit, " Be the Rude,
Na-thing of lufe I knaw, Bot keipis my scheip undir yone wude,
Lo, quhair tha}r raik on raw" ! Quhat hes marrit the in thy mude,
Makyne, to me thow schaw? Or quhat is lufe or to be lude8?
Fane wald I leir9 that law.
1 sheep.
2 to.
3 have pity on me.
4 openly and secretly.
5 My secret woe unless them share.
6 for lack of en- durance I die.
7 range in row.
S loved. 9 learn.
"At luvis lair10 gife thow will leir,
Tak thair ane A, B, C ; Be heynd11, courtass, and fair of feir12,
Wyse, hardy, and fre :
10 lore.
11 gentle.
12 carriage.
ROBERT HENR YSON.
1 daunt thee.
•1 Whatsoever win- in secret tliou endure.
8 Exert.
So that no denger do the* deir1,
Quhat dule in deru thow dre2 ;
Preiss3 thee with pane at all poweir Be pacient, and previe."
4 wot
5 thus uneasy.
6 glad.
7 healthy on the heights.
8 If.
9 bring reproof.
Robene answerit hir agane,
" I wait4 nocht quhat is lufe ; But I haif mervell incertaine,
Quhat makis the this wanrufe5. The weddir is fair, and I am fane6,
My scheip gois haill aboif7, And8 we wald play us in this plane
Thay wald us bayth reproif9."
10 take heed.
11 advise.
12 whole.
13 Ami also.
14 salve for sorrow.
" Robene, tak tent10 unto my taill,
And wirk all as I reid11, And thow sail haif my hairt all haill1-,
Eik and13 my maidenheid. Sen God sendis bute for baill14,
And for murnyng remeid ; In dern with thee hot giff I daill15
Dowtles I am bot deid."
10 this same time.
IT While we have
lain. IS ill-will have I
if I Urry. 19 stir.
" Makyne, to-morne this ilka tyde16
And ye will meet me heir Peraventure my scheip may gang besyd
Quhill we haif liggit17 full neir; Bot niawgre haif I and I byd18
Fra thay begin to steir19. Quhat lyis on hairt I will nocht hyd;
Makyne than inak gud cheir."
ROBENE AND MAKYNE.
93
"Robene, thou reivis me roiff1 and rest !
I luve hot the allane." " Makyne, adew ! the sone gois west,
The day is neir-hand gane." " Robene, in dule I am so drest2,
That lufe wil be my bane." " Ga lufe, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list,
For lemman I luve nane."
1 robbest me of quiet.
2 beset.
" Robene, I stand in sic a style3
I sicht4, and that full sair." "Makyne, I half bene heir this quhyle,
At hame God gif I wair5." " My huny, Robene, talk ane quhyle,
Gif thow will do na mair." "Makyne, sum uthir man begyle,
For hame wart I will fair."
3 such a state.
4 sigh.
5 God grant I were.
Robene on his way is went
Als licht as leif of tre. Mawkyn murnit in hir intent6,
And trowd him nevir to se. Robene brayd atour the bent7 ;
Than Makyne cryit on hie, " Now ma thou sing, for I am schent8
Quhat alis lufe at me?"
6 desire.
7 "strode across the brake."
8 lost.
Mawkyne went hame withowttin faill Full wery eftir cowth weip9.
Than Robene in a ful fair daill10 Assemblit all his scheip.
9 weary and like to weep.
10 deal, number.
94
KOBER T HENR YSON.
1 to her took good heed.
2 Without dividing.
3 To have thy whole heart mine.
4 till.
6 May add to.
7 endeavour.
S enclosrd html. 9 open jK
10 To walk over everywhere.
11 tattler.
Be that sum parte of Mawkynis aill Out-throw his hairt cowd creip ;
He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill And till hir tuke gude keep1.
" Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne !
A word for ony-thing ! For all my luve it sal be thyne,
Withowttin departing-'. All haill thy harte for till haif myne3
Is all my cuvating. My scheip to-morn, quhill4 houris nyne,
Will neid of no keping."
"Robene, thow he? hard soung and say
In gestis5 and storeis auld 'The man that will nocht qnheii he may.
Sail haif nocht quhen he wald.' I pray to Jesu, every day
Mot eikr> thair cairis cauld, That first preissis" with the to play
Be firth8, forrest, or fauldV
" Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,
The weddir is warme and fair, And the grene woid rycht neir us by
To walk atour all quhair10 : Thair ma na janglour11 us espy
That is to lufe contrair ; Thairin, Makyne, bath ye and I
Unsene we ma repair.'1
ROBENE AND MAKYNE.
95
"Robene, that warld is all away,
And quyt brocht till ane end ; And nevir agane thairto, perfay1,
Sail it be as thow wend2. For of my pane thow maid it play,
And all in vane I spend ; As thou hes done, sa sail I say,
Murne on, I think to mend."
1 by my faith.
2 weened,
expected.
"Makyne, the howp of all my heill3,
My hairt on the* is sett, And evir-mair to the be leill4
Quhill I may leif, but lett5 ; Nevir to faill, as utheris feill6,
Quhat grace that evir I gett." " Robene, with the I will nocht deill ;
Adew ! for thus we mett."
3 hope of all my health.
4 loyal.
5 without
ceasing.
6 as others fail.
Makyne, went hame blyth auewche7.
Attour the holtis hair8. Robene murnit, and Makyne lewche9 ;
Scho sang, he sichit sair10 : And so left him bayth M'O and wreuch11,
In dolour and in cair, Kepand his hird under a huche12
Amang the holtis hair.
7 enough.
8 Over the grey
hills.
9 laughed.
10 sighed sore.
11 woeful and wretched.
12 cliff.
1 Cause make for her body.
2 high.
3 No censure should hurt her.
THE GARMOND OF GUDE LADEIS.*
WALD my gud Lady lufe me best,
And wirk eftir my will, I suld ane garmond gudliest
Gar mak hir body till1.
Off he- honom suld he hir hud,
Upoun hir heid to weir, Garneist with governance so giul,
Na demyng suld hir deir3.
Hir sark suld be hir body nixt,
Of chestetie so quhyt, With schame and dreid togidder mixt,
The same suld be perfyt.
4 Laced willi
lawful love.
5 eyelet-hoi'1* of
continence.
Hir kirtill suld be of dene Constance,
Lasit with lesum lufe4, The mailyheis of continuance5
For nevir to remufc.
* Lord Hailes considered this poem "a sort of paraphrase of 1 Tim. ii., 9-11," and Laing remarks tliat " Pinkerton (History, vol. i., p. 434) refers to it as giving the best idea of the dress of a lady of that period ; 'the complete attire consist in^ of hood, shift, kirtle (or gown and petticoat) tied with laoes and adorned with mails or spangles ; on upper gown or robe, purtled ;ind furred, and adorned with ribbons ; a belt ; a mantle or cloak- in bad weather ; a hat, tippet, patclet, perhaps small ruff ; a ribbon about the neck ; sleeves, gloves, shoes and hose.' "
THE GARMOHD OF GUDE LA DEIS.
97
Hir gown suld be of gudliness, Weill ribband with renowaie,
Purfillit with plesour in ilk place1, Furrit with fyne fassoun2.
Hir belt suld be of benignitie, About hir middill meit ;
Hir mantill of humilitie,
To tholl3 bayth wind and weit.
1 each place.
2 fashion.
3 endure.
Hir hat suld be of fair having4, And hir tepat of trewth,
Hir patelet of gude pansing5, Hir hals-ribbane6 of rewth7.
Hir slevis suld be of esperance, To keip hir fra dispair ;
Hir gluvis of the gud govirnance, To hyd hir fyngearis fair.
Hir schone8 suld be of fickernes9, In syne that scho nocht slyd ;
Hir hois of honestie, I ges, I suld for hir provyd.
4 carriage.
5 Her ruff of yood thought.
6 throat-ribbon.
7 pity.
S shoes. 9 certainty.
Wald scho put on this garmond gay, I durst sweir by my seill10,
That scho woir nevir grene nor gray That set hir half so weill.
10 happiness, salvation.
THE ABBAY WALK/
1 By clianc'-.
ALLONB as I went up and doun
In ane Abbay was fair to se, Thinkand quhat consolatioun
Was best in-to adversitie ;
On caiss1 I kest on syd myne e, And saw this written upoun a wall,
Of quhat estait, Man, that thow be, Obey, and thank thy God of all.
2 Since thou aeestmich examples each day.
Thy kindome and thy grit empyre,
Thy ryaltie, nor riche array, Sail nocht endeur at thy de-yn-,
Bot, as the wind, will wend away ;
Thy gold, and all thy gudis gay, Quhen fortoun list will fra thee fall :
Sen thow sic fampillis seis ilk day2, Obey, and thank thy God of all.
* This title was given to the poem by Lord Hailcs ' ' from a like title given to a popular jiocin mentioned by Sir James Inglia" in The Complaynt of Scotland.
THE ABBA Y WALK.
99
Job was maist riche, in Writ we find,
Thob& maist full of cheritie; Job woux pure1, and Thobe blynd, i waxed poor.
Baith tempit with adversitie.
Sen blindnes wes infirmitie, And poverty wes naturall ;
Thairfoir rycht patiently bath he and he Obeyit, and thankit God of all.
2 Though.
3 reprove by reason (of it).
Thocht2 thow be blind, or haif ane halt,
Or in thy face deformit ill, Sa it cum nocht throw thy defalt,
Na man suld the repreif by skill3.
Blame nocht thy Lord, sa is his will ; Spurn nocht thy fute aganis the wall;
Bot with meik hairt and prayer still Obey, and thank thy God of all.
God of his justice mon4 correct
And of his mercie petie haif; He is ane Juge, to nane suspect5,
To puneis synfull man and saif.
Thocht thow be lord attour the laif°, And eftirwart maid bound and thrall,
Ane pure begger, with skrip and staiff, Obey, and thank thy God of all.
This changeing and grit variance
Off erdly7 staitis up and doun ~ earthly.
Is nocht bot8 casualitie and chance, 8 only.
Sa9 sum men sayis without ressoun, 9 AS.
4 must.
o by none to b« suspected.
6 over the rest.
ROBERT HENRYSON.
1 ready.
2 exalt.
3 Who raises lowly hearts and putM down the high.
Bot be the grit provisioun Of God aboif that rewel th^ sail ;
Thairfoir evir thow mak the boun1 To obey, and thank thy God of all.
In welth be meik, heich2 not thy-self;
Be glaid in wilfull povertie ; Thy power and thy warldis pelf
Is nocht bot verry vanitie.
Remeinbir him that deit on tre, For thy saik taistit the bittir gall,
Quha heis law hairtis, and lawis he3 Obey, and thank thy God of all.
THE PRAIS OF AIGE.
IN-TYL ane garth1, under ane reid roseir2,
Ane auld man, and decrepit, hard I syng ; Gay wes the noit, sweit was the voce and cleyr;
It wes grit joy to heir of sic ane thyng.
"And to my doume3," he said, in his dytyng4, "For to he young I wald nocht, for my wyss5,
Of all this world to mak me lord and king : The moyr of aige the nerar hevynis bliss.
" Fals is this warld, and full of varyance,
Oureset with syt and uther synnys mo6; Xow trewth is tynt", gyle lies the governance,
And wrachitness hes wrocht al weill to wo ;
Fredoume is tynt, and flemyt8 the lordis fro, And cuvattyce is all the cause of this :
I am content that yowthheid is ago9 : The moyr of aige the nerar hevynis blis.
"The stait of yowth I repute10 for na gude, For in that stait grit perrell now I se ;
Can nane gane-stand the rageing of his hlude Xa yit be stabil quhill that he aigit be11 :
1 garden.
2 a red rose-tree.
3 As to my fate.
4 tale, ditty.
5 after what I know.
6 Overcome with sorrow and other pities more.
7 lost.
8 driven away.
9 gone.
10 esteem.
11 till he be
.I.'" i.
102 ROBERT HENRYSON.
Than of the thing that maist rejoysit he, Na-thing remaynis for to be callit his ;
For quhy ? it was hot verray vanite : The moyr of aige the nerar hevynis blyss.
i trust. "This wrechit warld may na man trow1; for quhy?
Of erdly joy ay sorrow is the end; The gloyr of it can na man certify,
This day a king, the morne na-thing to spend !
Quhat haif we heyr hot grace us to defend ! 2 to amemi our The Qiihilk God grant us till amend our mvss2,
fault.
That till his joy lie may our saullis send; The moyr of aige the nerar hevynis bliss."
THE TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID.
ANB doolie sessoun to ane cairfull dyte1 Suld correspond, and be equivalent.
Richt sa it wes quhen I began to wryte This tragedie, the wedder richt fervent2, Quhen Aries in middis of the Lent ;
Schotiris of haill can fra the north discend,
That scantlie fra the cauld I micht defend.
1 A doleful season to a tale full of woe.
2 the weather right severe.
Yet nevertheles within myne oratur3
I stude, quhen Titan had his bemis bricht
Withdrawin doun, and sylit under cure4, And fair Venus, the bewtie of the nicht, Uprais, and set unto the west full richt
Hir golden face, in oppositioun
Of god Phebus, direct discending doun.
Throwout the glas liir bemis brast5 sa fair, That I micht se on everie syde me by,
The northin wind had purifyit the air, And sched the mistie cloudis fra the sky ; The froist freisit, the blastis bitterly
Fra Pole Artick come quhisling loud and schill0,
And causit me renuife aganis my will.
3 oratory.
4 concealed under care.
5 burst.
6 shrill.
io4
ROBERT HENKYSON.
For I traistit that Venus, luifis quene,
1 promise. To quhome sum-tyme I hecht1 obedience,
My faidit hart of lufe scho wald mak grene ; And therupon, with humbill reverence, I thocht to pray hir hie magnificence ;
2 was prevented. Bot for greit cauld as than I lattit was2,
And in my chalmer to the fyre can pas.
3T£°"ghlovebe Thocht lufe be hait3, yit in ane man of age It kendillis nocht sa sone as in youtheid, Of quhome the blude is flowing in ane rage,
4 dull and dead. And in the auld the enrage doif and deid4 ;
Of quhilk the fire outward is best remeid, To help be phisike quhair that nature faillit
5 attempted. I am expert, for baith I have assailit5.
6 basked. I mend the fyre, and beikit6 me about,
Than tuik ane drink my spreitis to comfort, And armit me weill fra the cauld thairout ; To cut the winter nicht, and mak it schort,
7 quire, book. I tuik ane quair7, and left all uther sport,
Writtin be worthie Chaucer glorious, Of fair Cresseid and worthie Troylus.
And thair I fand, efter that Diomeid
Ressavit had that lady bricht of hew, s started wide. How Troilus neir out of wit abraid8,
And weipit soir, with visage paill of hew;
9 which despair. For quhilk wauhope9 his teiris can renew,
10 Till. (t|uhill10 Esperus rejoisit him agane :
11 by whiles. Thus quhylc11 in joy he levit, quliilr in pane.
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 105
Of hir behest he had greit comforting,
Traisting to Troy that scho suld mak retour, Quhilk he desyrit maist of eirdly thing ;
For why ? scho was his only paramour :
Bot quhen he saw passit baith day and hour Of hir ganecome1, than sorrow can oppree i coming again.
His wofull hart, in cair and hevines.
Of his distres me neidis nocht reheirs,
For worthie Chauceir, in the samin buik, In gudelie termis and in joly veirs
Compylit hes his cairis, quha will luik.
To brek my sleip ane uther quair I tuik, In quhilk I fand the fatall destenie Of fair Cresseid, that endit wretchitlie.
Quha wait2 gif all that Chauceir wrait was trew? 2 who knows.
Xor I wait nocht gif this narratioun Be authoreist, or fenyeit of the neAv3 3 feigned anew.
Be sum poeit, throw his inventioun
Maid to report the lamentatioun
And wofull end of this lustie4 Cresseid ; 4 pleasant.
And quhat distres scho thoillit5. and quhat deid6. 5 suffered.
6 death.
Quhen Diomed had all his appetyte,
And mair, fulfillit of this fair ladie, Upon ane uther he set his haill delyte,
And send to hir ane lybell of repudie;
And hir excludit fra his companie. Than desolait scho walkit up and doun, And, sum men sayis, in-to the court comnioun.
lo6
ROBERT HENRYSON.
0, fair Cresseid ! the floure and A per se Of Troy and Grece, how was thow fortunait !
To change in filth all thy femiriitie, i polluted. And be with fleschelie lust sa maculait1,
And go amang the Greikis air and lait,
Sa giglotlike, takand thy foull plesance !
I have pietie thow suld fall sic mischance.
2 censure.
3 frailty.
Yit nevertheles, quhat-ever men deme'2 or say In scornefull langage of thy brukkilnes3,
I sail exciise, als far furth as T may,
Thy womanheid, thy wisdome, and fairnes ; And quhilk Fortoun lies put to sic distres
As hir pleisit, and na-thing throw the gilt
Of the, throw wickit langage to be spilt.
This fair lady, in this wyse destitute
Of all comfort and consolatioun, 4 without. Richt privelie, but4 fellowschip, on fute Disagysit passit far out of the toun Ane inyle or t\va, unto ane mansioun, Beildit full gay, quhair hir father Calchas (Quhilk than amang the Greikis dwelland was.
Quhen he hir saw, the caus he can inquyre Of hir cuming ? Scho said, siching full soir,
"Fra Diomeid had gottin his desyre
He wox werie, and wald of me no moir."
<,>uud Calchas, "Douchter, weip thow not thairfoir,
Peraventure all cmimiis for tin- lic.-,t,
Wt'lcum to me, thow art full deir ane go.>l.';
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 107
This auld Calchas, efter the law was tho1, ithen.
Wes keeper of the tempill, as ane preist, In quhilk Venus and hir sone Cupido
War honourit, and his chalmer was thame neist2, 2 next.
To quhilk Cresseid, with baill aneuch3 in breist, 3 woe enough. Usit to pas, hir prayeris for to say; Quhill at the last, upon ane solempne day,
As custome was, the pepill far and neir
Befoir the none unto the tempill went With sacrifice devoit in thair maneir :
But still Cresseid, hevie in hir intent,
In-to the kirk wald not hir-self present, For givin of the pepill ony deming Of hir expuls fra Diomeid the king;
Bot past into ane secreit orature,
Quhair scho micht weip hir wofull desteny. Behind hir bak scho cloisit fast the dure,
And on hir kneis bair fell down in hy4 ; 4 in haste.
Upon Venus and Cupide angerly Scho cryit out, and said on this same wyse, " Allace that ever I maid yow sacrifice !
" Ye gave me anis ane devine responsaill,
That I suld be the flour of luif in Troy, Now am I maid an unworthie outwaill5, 5 outoist.
And all in cair translatit is my joy.
Quha sail me gyde ? quha sail me now convoy, Sen6 I fra Diomeid and nobill Troylus esiuce.
Am clene excludit, as abject odious?
io8
ROBERT HENRYSON.
1 blame. " O fals Cupide, is nane to wy te1 hot thow,
And thy mother, of lufe the blind goddess !
Ye causit me alwayis understand and trow, The seid of lufe was sawin in my face, And ay grew grene throw your supplie and grace.
Bot now, allace ! that seid with froist is slane,
2 neglected. ^nd I fra luifferis left, and all forlane2."
Quhen this was said, doun in ane extasie
Ravischit in spreit, intill ane dreame scho fell,
And be apperance hard quhair scho did ly Cupide the king ringand ane silver bell, Quhilk men micht heir fra hevin unto hell ;
At quhais sound befoir Cupide appeiris
The sevin Planetis discending fra thair spheiris,
Quhilk lies power of all thing generabill To reull and steir, be thair greit influence,
Wedder and wind and coursis variabill.
And first of all Saturne gave his sentence, Quhilk gave to Cupide litill reverence,
3 ttercc, bluster- Bot as ane busteous3 churle on his maneir,
ing.
Come crabitlie with auster luik and cheir.
4 frost »"I.
5 skin.
6 shivered (0-
7 hollow.
8 and -drop.
it livid.
His face frosnit4, his lyn-r< was lyke the leid, His teith chatterit, and cheverit6 with the chin,
His ene drowpit, how", sonkin in his heid, Out of his nois the meldrop8 fast can rin, With lippis bla9, and cheikis leine an<l thin,
The iceschoklis that fra his hair doun hang
Was wonder greit and as ane speir als lang.
TESTAMENT OF CRESSE1D.
109
Atouir1 his belt his lyart2 lokkis lay
Felterit3 unfair, ovirfret4 with froistis hoir,
His garmound and his gyis5 full gay of gray, His widderit weid6 fra him the wind out woir, Ane busteous bow within his hand he boir,
Under his girdill ane flasche of felloun flanis7,
Fedderit with ice and heidit with hailstanis.
1 Over.
2 hoary.
3 tangled.
4 overspread.
5 guise, attire.
6 withered dress.
7 a sheaf of cruel arrows.
Than Juppiter richt fair and amiabill,
God of the starnis in the firmament, And nureis to all thing generabill,
Fra his father Saturne far different,
With burelie8 face, and browis bricht and brent9, s Pleasant-
9 fair and
Upon his heid ane garland wonder gay smooth.
Of flouris fair, as it had bene in May.
His voice was cleir, as cristall wer his ene, As goldin Avyre sa glitterand was his hair,
His garmound and his gyis full gay of grene, AVith golden listis10 gilt on everie gair11, Ane burelie brand about his middill bair,
In his right hand he had ane groundin1'2 speir,
Of his father the wraith fra us to weir13.
Xixt efter him come Mars, the god of ire, Of strife, debait, and all dissensioun,
To chide and fecht, als feirs as ony fyre,
In hard harnes, hewmound and habirgeoun14, And on his hanche ane roustie fell fachioun15,
And in his hand he had ane roustie sword,
Wiything his face with mony angrie word,
10 edges.
11 strip.
12 sharpened.
13 to ward off , the appari- tion from us.
14 helmet and coat of mail.
15 falchion.
1 10 ROBER T HENR YSON.
Schaikand his sword, befoir Cupide he come
1 angry-staring With reid visage and grislie glowrand ene1,
eyes.
2 mass. And at his mouth ane bullar- stude of fome,
Lyke to ane bair quhetting his tuskis kene,
3 brawier-iike Richt tuilyeour lyke, but temperance in tene3 ;
without t. in
wrath. Ane home he blew with mony bosteous brag4,
4 fierce defiance. ,>.,.„ .
5 war. Quhilk all this warld with weir5 hes maid to wag.
Than fair Phebus, lanterne and lamp of licht Of man and beist, baith frute and fiouriacbing,
Tender nureis, and banischer of nicht, And of the warld causing, be his moving And influence, lyfe in all eirdlie thing,
Without comfort of quhome, of force to nocht
Must all ga die that in this warld is wrocht.
As king royall he raid upon his chair,
The quhilk Phaeton gydit sum-tyme unricht,
The brichtness of his face, quhen it was bair, Nane micht behald for peirsing of his sicht ; This goldin cart with fyrie bemes bricht
Four yokkit steidis, full different of hew, 6 Without pause. But bait6 or tyring throw the spheiris drew.
The first was foyr, with mane als reid as rois,
^rt'wy'iV Callit E0^7 in-to the Orient;
8 called Jithon. The secund steid to name hecht Ethios8,
9 somewhat. Quhitlie and paill, and sum-deill9 ascendent ; lOPyrois. The thrid Peros10, right hait and richt fervent; 11 Phiegon. The feird was blak, callit Phlegonie11,
Quhilk rollis Phebus down iu-to the sey.
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID.
Venus was thair present, that goddess gay, Her sonnis querrd for to defend, and mak
Hir awin complaint, cled in ane nyce1 array, The ane half grene, the uther half sabill blak, Quhyte hair as gold, kemmit and sched abak,
Bot in hir face semit greit variance,
Quhyles perfyte treuth, and quhyles inconstance.
Under smyling scho was dissimulait,
Provocative with blenkis2 amorous, And suddanely changit and alterait,
Angrie as ony serpent vennemous,
Richt pungitive with wordis odious. Thus variant scho was, quha list tak keip3, With ane eye lauch, and with the uther *weip.
In taikning4 that all fleschelie paramour Quhilk Venus hes in reull and governance,
Is sum-tyme sweit, sum-tyme bitter and sour, Richt unstabill, and full of variance, Mingit5 with cairfull joy, and fals plesance,
Xow hait, now cauld, now blyith, now full of wo,
Xow grene as leif, now widderit and ago6.
With buik in hand than come Mercurius, Richt eloquent and full of rethorie,
With polite termis, and delicious,
With pen and ink to report all reddie, Setting sangis7, and singand merilie.
His hude was reid, heklit atouir his croun8,
Lyke to ane poeit of the auld fassoun9.
1 simple.
2 glances.
3 who chooses take heed.
4 token.
5 Mingled.
6 withered and gone.
1 i.e. to music.
8 hooked over his head.
9 fashion.
ROBERT HENRYSON.
\ decked.
2 attire.
8 graceful of utterance.
4 practice.
5 learn.
6 i.t. how to write.
7 a little.
8 Asks.
Boxis he bair with fine electuairis,
And sugerit syropis for digestiouu, Spycis belangand to the pothecairis,
With mony hailsum sweit confectioun ;
Docteur in phisick, cled in skarlot goun, And furrit weill, as sic ane aucht to be, Honest and gude, and not ane word culd lie.*
Xixt efter him come Lady Cynthia,
The last of all, and swiftest in hir spheir,
Of colour blak, buskit1 with hornis twa, And in the nicht scho listis best appeir, Har as the leid, of colour na-thing cleir,
For all hir licht scho borrowis at hir brother
Titan, for of hir-self scho lies nane uther.
Hir gyse2 was gray, and full of spottis blak, And on hir breist ane churle paintit full evin,
Beirand ane bunche of thornis on his bak,
Quhilk for his thift micht clim na nar the hevin. Thus quhen thay gadderit war, thir Goddis sevin,
Mercurius they cheisit with ane assent
To be foir-speikar in the parliament.
Quha had bene thair, and lyking for to heir His facound3 toung and termis exquisite,
Of rhetorick the prettick4 he micht leir5,
In breif sermoue ane pregnant sentence wryte8. Befoir Cupide, veiling his cap alyte7,
Speiris8 [he] the caus of that vocation ;
And he anone schew his intentioun.
"Mercury was "the god of thieves, pickpockets and all dishonest persons."
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 113
" Lo ! " quod Cupide, " quha will blaspheme the name
Of his awin god, outher in word or deid, To all goddis he dois baith lak1 and schame, 1 reproach
And suld have bitter panis to his meid;
I say this by yone wretchit Cresseid, The quhilk throw me was sum-tyme flour of lufe, Me and my mother starklie can reprufe ;
" Saying of hir greit infelicitie
I was the caus and my mother Venus ; Ane blind Goddes hir cald that micht not se,
With sclander and defame injurious.
Thus hir leving unclene and lecherous Scho wald returne on me and my mother, To quhome I schew my grace abone all uther.
"And sen2 ye ar all sevin deificait, 2 since.
Participant of devyne sapience, This greit injurie done to our hie estait,
Me-think with pane we suld mak recompence ;
Was never to goddes done sic violence. As weill for yow as for myself I say, Thairfoir ga help to revenge, I yow pray."
Mercurius to Cupide gave answeir,
And said, "Schir King, my counsall is that ye Refer yow to the hiest planeit heir,
And tak to him the lawest of degre,
The pane of Cresseid for to modifie3 : 3 formulate.
As God Saturne, with him tak Cynthia." "I am content," quod he, "to tak thay twa." I ii
1 1 4 ROBER T HENR YSON.
Than thus proceidit Saturne and the Mone, Quhen thay the mater rypelie had degest;
For the dispyte to Cupide scho had done, And to Venus oppin and manifest, In all hir lyfe with pane to be opprest,
And torment sair, with seiknes incurabill,
And to all lovers be abominabill.
This dulefull sentence Saturne tuik on hand, And passit doun quhair cairfnll Cresseid lay,
And on hir heid he laid ane frostie wand, Than lawfullie on this wyse can he say ; "Thy greit fairnes, and all thy bewtie gay,
Thy wantoun blude, and eik thy goldin hair,
Heir T exclude fra the for evermair :
" I change thy mirth into melancholy, Quhilk is the mother of all pensivenes,
Thy moisture and thy heit in cald and dry, Thyne insolence, thy play and wantones To greit diseis, thy pomp and thy riches
In mortall neid and greit penuritie ;
Thow suffer sail, and as ane beggar die."
0 cruell Saturne ! fraward and angrie.
Hard is thy dome, and too malitious. On fair Cresseid quhy hes thow na mercie,
Quhilk was sa sweit, gentill, and amourous?
Withdraw thy sentence, and be gracious, As thow was never, so schawis thow thy deid, i revengeful. Ane wraikfull1 sciiti-nff j^'vin on fair Oesaeid.
TESTA MENT OF CRESSEID. 1 1 5
Than Cynthia, quhen Saturne past away,
Out of hir sait discendit down belyve1, i quickly.
And red ane bill on Cresseid qnhair scho lay,
Contening this sentence diffinityve,
" Fra heile2 of bodie I the now deprive, 2 health.
And to thy seiknes sal be na recure, But in dolour thy dayis to indure.
"Thy cristall ene miiiglit with blude I mak, Thy voice sa cleir unplesand hoir and hace3,
Thy lustie lyre4 ouirspred with spottis blak, And lumpis haw0 appeirand in thy face ; Quhair thow cunnuis ilk man sail fle the place,
This sail thow go begging fra hous to hoiis,
With cop and clapper lyke ane lazarous."
This doolie dreame, this uglye visioun Brocht to ane end, Cresseid fra it awoik,
And all that court and convocatioun
Vanischit away. Than rais scho up and tuik Ane poleist glas, and hir schaddow culd luik ;
And quhen scho saw hir face sa deformait,
Gif scho in hart was wa aneuch, God wait0 !
Weiping full sair, "Lo! quhat it is," quod sche, "With fra ward langage for to mufe and steir
Our craibit goddis, and sa is sene on me ! My blaspheming now have I bocht full deir, All eirdly joy and mirth I set areir7.
Allace this day ! allace this wofull tyde !
(^uhen 1 began with my goddis for to chyde ! '
:i aged (hoar) and hoarse.
4 beauteous skin.
5 livid.
8 woeful enough, God knows.
7 behind.
u6
ROBERT HENR YSON.
1 nftenvarcls.
2 in haste.
3 grovelling, ///. on belly.
4 somewhat.
5 wreaking.
Be this was said ane chyld come fra the hall To warue Cresseid the supper was reddy ;
First knokkit at the dure, and syne1 culd call, " Madame, your father biddis you cum in hy-. He has mervell sa lang on grouf3 ye ly ;
And sayis, Your prayers bene too lang sum-deill4,
The goddis wait all your intent full weill."
(.^uod scho, "Fair chylde, ga to my father deir, And pray him cum to speik with me anone."
And sa he did, and said, "Douchter, quhat cheir1?" " Allace," quod scho, "father, my mirth is gone!" " How sa ? " quod he ; and scho can all expone,
As I have tauld, the vengeance and the wraik5,
For hir trespas, Cupide on hir culd tak.
He luikit on hir uglye lipper face,
The quhilk befor was quhite as lillie flour ;
\Yringand his handis oftymes, he said, Allace, That he had levit to se that wof nil hour ! For he knew weill that thair was na succour
To hir seiknes, and that dowblit his pane ;
Thus was thair cair aneuch betuix thame twane.
6 known.
7 go.
* earth.
•-• fate.
Quhen thay togidder murnit had full lang,
yuod Cresseid, "Father, 1 wald not be kend6,
Thairfoir in secreit wyse y<- let me gang7, Unto yone hospitall at the tounis end ; And thidder sum meit for cheritie me send
To leif upon ; for all mirth in this eird8
Is fra me gane, sic is uiy wickit weird11.'1
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID.
117
Than in aue mantill, and ane bavar hat, With cop and clapper, wonder prively
He opnit ane secreit yett1, and out thairat Convoyit hir, that na man suld espy, Unto ane village half ane myle thairby,
Delyverit hir in at the spittail hous,
And daylie sent hir part of his almous.*
Sum knew hir weill, and sum had na knawledge Of hir, becaus scho was sa deformait,
With bylis2 blak ovirspred in hir visage, And hir fair colour faidit and alterait ; Yit thay presumit for hir hie regrait,
And still murning scho was of nobill kin,
With better will thairfoir they tuik her in.
The day passit, and Phebus went to rest, The cloudis blak ovirquhelmit all the sky,
God wait gif Cresseid was ane sorrowfull gest, Seeing that uncouth fair and herbery3; But meit4 or drink scho dressit hir to ly
In ane dark corner of the hous allone,
And on this wyse, weiping, scho made hir mone.
* Sir Walter Scott in the notes to his edition of Sir Tristrem, p. 362, says, in reference to a passage of that poem, " Want of cleanliness, of linen, of vegetables, of fresh meat in winter, but, above all, sloth and hardship, concurred to render the leprosy as common in Europe during the middle ages as it is in some eastern countries at this day. ^Nor were its ravages confined to the poor and destitute. Robert de Bruce died of this disorder, as did Constance, duchess of Bretagne, and Henry IV. of England. Various hospitals were founded by the pious for the reception of those miserable objects, whose disease, being infectious, required their exclusion from society. For the same reason, while they begged through the streets they usually carried the cup and clapper mentioned in the text. The former served to receive alms, and the noise of the latter warned the passenger to keep aloof, even while bestowing his charity."
1 gate.
2 boils.
3 unaccustomed fare and lodging.
4 without.
n8
ROBERT HENRYSON.
1 earth.
•.' blackened bare.
8 evil is thy fate.
4 thy woe put- ting forth leaf.
5 furnished.
6 pleasant.
7 abundant embroidered tapestries.
8 beautv.
9 saffron (?)
sallCl'.
10 ceasomng.
11 pin.
12 behind.
13 piece.
14 thrush.
15 go.
16 persons.
17 green.
THE COMPLAINT OF CRESSEID.
" 0 sop of sorrow sonkeu into cair ! 0, cative Cresseid ! now and ever-mair
Gane is thy joy and all thy mirth in eird1 Of all blyithnes now art thow blaiknit bair'2. Thair is na salve may saif the of thy sair !
Fell is thy fortoun, wickit is thy weird3,
Thy blys is baneist, and thy baill on breird4, Under the eirth God gif I gravin wer,
Quhair nane of Grece nor yit of Troy micht heird !
" Quhair is thy chalmer wantounlie besene5, With burely" bed, and bankouris browderit berie",
Spycis and wyne to thy collatioun, The cowpis all of gold and silver schene8, The sweit meitis servit in plaittis clriir,
Witli saipheron sals*' of ane glide sessoun10,
Thy gay garmentis with mony gudely goun, Thy plesand lawn pinnit with goldin prene11 ?
All is areir1-, thy greit royall reuoun !
" Quhair is thy garding with thir greissis gay, And fresche flowris, quhilk the (k)uene Floray
Had paintit ple.-andly mi eyerie pane13, Quliiiir tbow was wont full merilye in May To walk, and tak the dew be it was day,
And heir the merle and mavis14 mony ane,
With ladyis fair in carrolling to gane15, And se the royal rinks16 in thair array,
In garmentis gay, garnischit on everie grane.17?
TESTAMENT OF CRESSE1D.
119
"Thy greit triumphand fame and hie honour, Quhair thow was callit of eirdlye wichtis flour,
All is decayit ; thy weird is welterit so1, Thy hie estait is turnit in darknes dour2 ! This lipper ludge tak for thy burelie bour,
And for thy bed tak now ane bunche of stro,
For waillit3 wyne and meitis thow had tho4, Tak mowlit5 breid, peirrie6, and ceder sour ;
Bot cop and clapper now is all ago.
"My cleir voice and courtlie carrolling, Quhair I was wont with ladyis for to sing,
Is rawk as ruik7, full hiddeous hoir and hace; My plesand port all utheris precelling, Of lustines8 I was hald maist conding9,
Now is deforuiit ; the figour of my face
To luik on it na leid10 now lyking hes : Sowpit in syte11, I say -with sair siching,
Ludgeit amang the lipper leid, Allace !
"0 ladyis fair of Troy and Grece attend My miserie quhilk nane may comprehend,
My frivoll fortoun, my infelicitie, My greit mischief, quhilk na man can amend. Be-war in tyme, approchis neir the end,
And in your mynd ane mirrour mak of me ;
As I am now, peradventure that ye, For all your micht, may cum to that same end,
Or ellis war12, gif ony war may be.
" Nocht is your fairnes lot ane f aiding flour, Nocht is your famous laud and hie honour
1 thy fate is tossed so.
2 hard.
3 chosen.
4 then.
5 mouldy.
6 small ale ?
" hoarse as rook.
8 beauty.
9 agreeable.
10 man.
11 Drenched in grief.
12 worse.
120
ROBERT HENR YSON.
Bot wind inflat in uther mennis eiris; Your roising reid to rotting sail retour. Exempill mak of me in your niemour,
Quhilk of sic thingis wofull witnes beiris.
All welth in eird away as wind it weiris : Be-war, thairfoir, approchis neir the hour ;
Fortoun is fikkill quhen scho beginnis and steiris1."
Thus chydand with her drerie destenye,
Weiping, scho woik the nicht fra end to end. Bot all in vane; hir dule. hir cairfull cry,
Micht not remeid, nor yit hir murning mend. 2 passed. Ane lipper lady rais, and till hir wend2,
And said, " Quhy spurnis thow aganis the wall, To sla thyself, and mend na-thing at all 1
" Sen thy weiping dowbillis bot thy wo, I counsall the mak vertew of ane neid;
To leir to clap thy clapper to and fro, 8 leper folk. And leir efter the law of lipper leid8."
4 hp'P- Thair was na buit4, bot furth with thame scho yeid5
6 went.
Fra place to place, quhill cauld and hounger sair
6 importunate. Compellit hir to be ane rank0 beggair.
That samin tyme of Troy the garnisoun, Quhilk had to chiftane worthie Troylus,
Throw jeopardie of weir had strikken down Knichtis of Grece in number mervellous. With greit tryumphe and laude victorious
Agane to Troy richt royallie they raid
7 abode. The way quhair Cresseid with the lipper baid".
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID.
121
Seing that companie thai come all with ane stevin1, i noise. Thay gaif ane cry, and schuik coppis gude speid.
Said, "Worthie lordis, for Goddis lufe of Hevin, To us lipper part of your almous deid." Than to thair cry nobill Troylus tuik heid ;
Having pietie, neir by the place can pas
Quhair Cresseid sat, not witting what scho was.
Than upon him scho kest up baith her ene, And with ane blenk2 it come in-to his thocht
That he sum tyme hir face befoir had sene ; Bot scho was in sic plye3 he knew hir nocht. Yit than hir luik into his mynd it brocht
The sweit visage and amorous blenking
Of fair Cresseid, sumtyme his awin darling.
Na wonder was, suppois4 in mynd that he Tuik hir figure sa sone, and lo, now, quhy :
The idole of ane thing in cace5 may be Sa deip imprentit in the fantasy That it deludis the wittis outwardly,
And sa appeiris in forme and lyke estait
Within the mynd, as it was figurait.
Ane spark of lufe than till his hart culd spring, And kendlit all his bodie in ane fyre
With bait fevir ane sweit and trimbilling Him tuik, quhill he was reddie to expyre ; To beir his scheild his breist began to tyre;
Within ane quhyle he changit mony hew,
And nevertheless not ane ane-uther knew.
2 glance.
3 such plight.
4 although.
5 chance.
122
ROBER T HENK YSON.
\ cast heavily.
2 ofttimes.
3 whisper.
4 knowledge.
5 noble.
6 stun of pain.
7 bested.
8 at loss for a dwelling.
For knichtlie pietie and memoriall
Of fair Cresseid ane gyrdill can he tak,
Ane purs of gold, and mony gay jowall,
And in the skirt of Cresseid doun can swak1 : Than raid away, and not ane word he spak,
Pensive in hart, quhill he come to the toun,
And for greit cair oft-syis2 almaist fell doun.
The lipper folk to Cresseid than can draw, To se the equall distributioun
Of the ahnous, but quhani the gold they saw Ilk ane to uther prevelie can roun3, And said " Yone lord lies mair aifectioun,
How-ever it be, unto yone lazarous,
Than to us all ; we knaw be his almous."
" Quhat lord is yone," quod scho, " have ye na feill4, Hes done to us so greit huiranitie'?"
" Yes," quod a lipper man, " I knaw him weill : Schir Troylus it is, gentill and fre5." Quhen Cresseid understude that it was h«i
Stiffer than steill thair stert ane bitter stound0
Throwout hir hart, and fell doun to the ground.
C^uhen scho, ovircome with siching sair and aad, With mony cairfull cry and cald " Ochane !
Now is my breist with stormie stoundis stad7, Wrappit in wo, ane wretch full will of wane*." Than swounit scho oft or scho culd refrane,
And ever in hir swouning cryit scho thus : —
" 0, fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troylus !
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 123
"Thy lufe, thy lawtie1, and thy gentilnes i loyalty.
I countit small in my prosperitie ; Sa elevait I was in wan tones,
And clam upon the fickill quheill2 sa hie; 2 it. of Fortune.
See Kingit
All faith and lufe I promissit to the Was in the self fickill and frivolous : U, fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troylus !
"For lufe of me thow keipt gude continance,
Honest and chaist in conversatioun ; Of all women protectour and defence
Thow was, and helpit thair opinioun.
My mynd in fleschelie foull affectioun Was inclynit to lustis lecherous. Fy, fals Cresseid ! 0, trew knicht Troylus !
" Lovers be war, and tak gude heid about
Quhome that ye lufe, for quhome ye suffer paine,
I lat yow wit, thair is richt few thairout
Quhome ye may traist to have trew lufe againe : Preif3 quhen ye will, your labour is in vaine. 3 Try.
Thairfoir I reid4 ye tak thame as ye find, 4 counsel.
For thav ar sad as widdercock5 in wind. 5 serious as
weather-vane.
" Becaus I knaw the greit unstabilnes,
Brukkil0 as glas, into my-self I say, o brittle.
Traisting in iither als greit unfaithfulnes,
Als unconstant, and als untrew of fay.
Thocht sum be trew, I Avait richt few are thay. Quha findis treuth, lat him his lady ruse7 ; 7 extol.
Nane but myself, as now, I will accuse."
124
ROBERT HENR YSON.
Quhen this was said, with paper scho sat doun, Ami on this maneir maid liir testament:
"Heir I beteiche1 my corps and carioun With wormis and with taidis2 to be rent; My cop and clapper, and myne ornament,
And all my gold, the lipper folk sail have,
Quhen I am deid, to burie me in grave.
" This royall ring, set with this rubie reid, Quhilk Troylus in drowrie3 to me send,
To him agane I leif it quhan I am deid, To mak my cairfull deid unto him kend4 : Thus I conclude schortlie, and mak ane end.
My spreit I leif to Diane, quhair scho dwellis,
To walk with hir in waist woddis and wellis5.
" 0, Diomeid ! thow hes baith broche and belt
Quhilk Troylus gave me in takning Of his trew lufe," — And with that word scho swelt6.
And sone ane lipper man tuik of the ring,
Syne" buryit hir withouttin tarying. To Troylus furthwith the ring he bair, And of Crosseid the deith he can declair.
8 ready.
Quhen he had hard hir greit infinnitie, Hir legacie and lamentatioun,
And how scho endit in sic povertie,
He swelt for wo, and fell doun in ane swoun, For greit sorrow his hart to birst was boun8 :
Sirhing full sadlie, said, "I can no moir,
Scho was untrew, and wo is me thairfoir ! "
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 125
Sum said he maid ane tomb of merbell gray,
And wrait hir name and superscriptioun, And laid it on hir grave, quhair that scho lay,
In goldin letter! s conteining this ressoun :
" Lo, fair ladyis, Cresseid of Troyis toun, Sumtyme countit the flour of womanheid, Under this stane, late lipper, lyis deid ! "
Now, worthie Wemen, in this ballet schort,
Made for your worschip1 and instructioun, i honour.
Of cheritie I monische and exhort
Ming2 not your lufe with fals deceptioun ; 2 Mix.
Beir in your mynd this schort conclusioun Of fair Cresseid, as I have said befoir. Sen scho is deid I speik of hir no moir.
PROLOGUE TO THE MORAL FABLES.
Ix iniddis of June, that joly sweit seasoun,
Quhen that fair Phebus with his bc'iuis bricht Had dryit up the dew fra daill and doun,
1 radiance. And all the land maid with his leinis1 licht,
In ane mornyng, betuix mid-day and nicht, I rais and put all sleuth and sleip asyde,
2 without guide. And to ane wod I went alone, but gyde2.
Sweit wes the smell of flouris quhyte and reid, The noyis of birdis richt delitious,
The bewis3 braid blomit abone my heid, The ground growand with gersis gratious. Of all plesance that place wes plenteous,
With sweit odouris and birdis harmonie,
The morning myld, my mirth wes mair forthy4.
3 boughs.
4 therefore.
5 bushes and twigs.
fi did make. 7 hillside.
The roisis re.id arrayit on rone and ryce5, The prymerois and the purpour viola;
To heir it wes ane poynt of Paradyce,
Sic mirtli the mavis and the merle couth ma6. The blossummis blvitli bnik up on bank ami bra7,
The smell of herbis, and of foullis cry,
Contending »juhu suld half the.- victorie.
PROLOGUE.
127
Me to conserve then fra the sonnis heit, Under the schadow of ane hawthorne grene
I lenit doun amang the flouris sweit,
Syne1 cled my held and closit baith my ene. i Presently. On sleip I fell amang thir bewis bene2, 2 abundant,
And, in my dreme, methocht come throw the schaw3 3 covert.
The fairest man that euer befoir I saw.
His gowne wes of ane claith als quhyte as milk,
His chvmeris4 wes of chambelote5 purpour broun ; 4 loose ljght
gown.
His hude of scarlet, bordourit weill with silk,
On hekillit wyis6 untill his girdill doun ;
His bonat round and of the auld fassoun ; His beird wes quhyte, his ene wes greit and gray, With lokkerT hair, quhilk oner his schulderis lay.
0 camlet cloth.
IP in manner of a cock's neck- feathers.
7 curling.
S pen-caie.
9 clad.
Ane roll of paper in his hand he bair, Ane swannis pen stikkand under his eir,
Ane inkhorne, with ane prettie gilt pennair8, Ane bag of silk, all at his belt can beir : Thus was he gudelie graithit9 in his geir.
Of stature large and with ane feirfull face
Evin quhair I lay he come ane sturdie pace ;
And said, " God speid, my sone : " and I wes fane10 10 glad.
Of that couth11 word and of his cumpanie. n familiar.
With reverence I salusit him agane,
" Welcome, father : " and he sat doun me by.
" Displeis you nocht, my gude maister, thocht I12 12 though I. Demand your birth, your facultie, and name,
ye come heir, or quhair ye dwell at hame I "
1 28 KOBER T HENK YSON.
"My sone," said he, "I am of gentill blude. My native land is Rome, withouttin nay,
1 went. And in that towne first to the sculis I yude1,
In civile law study it full mony ane day,*
2 dwelling. And now my winning2 is in hevin for ay.
3 am called. Esope I hecht3 ; my wryting and my werk
4 known. is couth and kend4 to mony cunning clerk."
" 0 Maister Esope, poet laureate,
5 knows. GO(I wait5 ye ar full deir welcum to me.
Ar ye nocht he that all thir fahillis wrait o though they !>«• Ouhilk in effect, suppois they fenyeit be6,
feigned.
Ar full of prudence and moralitie?" " Fair sone," said he, " I am the samin man." God wait gif that my liert was merie than.
I said, " Esope, my maister venerabill, I yow beseik hartlie, for cheritie,
Ye wald nocht disdayne to tell ane prettie fabill, Concludand with ane gude moralitie." Schaikand his heid, he said, " My sone, lat be ;
For quhat is worth to tell ane fenyeit taill
Quhen haly preiching may no-thing availl?
"Now in this world mc-think richt few or nane To Goddis word that hes devotioun.
The eir is deif, the hart is hard as stane, Now oppin sin without correction]), The ee inclynand to the eirth ay doun.
Sa roustie is the warld with ranker hlak
That now my taillis may lytill succour mak.:'
* Laiug suggests that Hcnryson may in this passage be
describing his u\vn
PROLOGUE. 129
"Yit, gentill Schir," said I, "for my requeist, Nocht to displeis your fatherheid, I pray,
Under the figure of ane brutale beist
Ane morall fabill ye wald denyie1 to say. i deign.
Quha wait nor I may leir2 and beir away 2 Iearn-
Sum-thing thairby heirefter may availl?"
" I grant," quod he, and thus begouth ane taill.
n
THE TA1LL OF THE UPLANDIS MOUS AND THE BURGES MOUS.
1 a royal borough.
2 dwelt in the country conveniently near.
3 damage.
4 chance gettings.
5 suffered.
6 without taxes.
7 chest.
8 in state of subjection.
ESOPE, inyne author, makis mentioun Of twa myis, and thay wer sisteris deir,
Of quham the eldest dwelt in ane borrowis toun1, The uther wynnit uponland weiD neir2, Richt solitai-, quhyles under busk and breir,
Quhylis in the come, and uther mennis skaith3,
As outlawis dois, and levis on thair waith4.
This rurall Mous in-to the wynter-tyde
Had hunger, cauld and tholit5 greit distress;
The uther Mous that in the burgh can byde Wes gild-brother and maid ane free burgess, Toll-fre als, but custum6 mair or less,
And fredome had to ga quhair-ever scho list,
Amang the cheis in ark and meill in kist7.
Ane tyme quhen scho wes full and unfute-sair Scho tuke in mynde hir sister uponland,
And langit for to heir of hir weilfair,
To se quhat lyfe scho had under the wand8 ; Bairfute, allone, with pykestalf in hir hand,
As pure pilgryme scho passit out of toun
To seik hir sister baith over daill and doun.
THE UPLANDIS MO US. 131
Furth mony wilsuni1 wayis can scho walk, i ion<>iy.
Throw mosse and muir, throw bankis, busk, and breir Scho ranne cryand, quhill scho cam to ane balk2, 2 ^m
" Cum furth to me my awiri sister deir !
Cry peip anis3 ! " With that the Mous culd heir, 3 OUCH. And knew her voce, as kinnisman will do, Be verray kynd4, and furth scho come hir to.
The hartlie5 joy, Lord God ! gif ye had sene, 5 cordial.
Was kithit6 quhen that thir twa sisteris met, 6 shown. Ami greit kyndenes was schawin thame betuene ;
For quhylis thay leuch, and quhylis for joy they gret7, 7 wept.
Quhylis kissit sweit, and quhylis in armis plet8 ; 8 folded. And thus thay fure quhill9 soberit wes thair mude, 9 fared tin. Syne fute for fute unto the chalmer yude10. lOwent.
As I hard say, it was ane sober wane11 n dwelling.
Of fog12 and fairn full febillie wes maid, 12 moss-
Ane sillie scheill13 under ane steidfast stane, ISA frail shell-
ing, shelter.
Of quhilk the entres wes nocht hie nor braid ;
And in the samyn thay went but mair abaid14, 14 without more
• delay.
Withoutin fyre or candill birnand bricht,
For commounlie sic pykeris15 luffis not licht. 15 such pilferers.
Quhen thay wer lugit thus, thir selie16 myse, ie these poor.
The youngest sister unto her butterie yeid, And brocht furth nuttis and peis in-stead of spyce.
Gif this wes gude fair I do it on thame besyde.
The burges Mous prompit furth in pryde, And said, " Sister, is this your daylie fude ? " " Quhy not," quod scho, " is nocht this meit rycht gude ? "
132
ROBERT HENRYSON.
lt Na, be my saull, I think it bot ane scorne." " Madame," quod scho, " ye be the mair to blame.
My mother said, sister, quhen we were borne, That ye and I lay baith within ane waine : I keip the rate and custume of my dame,
And of my leviug in-to povertie,
For landis haif we nane in propertie."
" My fair sister," quod scho, " haif me excusit.
This rude dyet and I can nocht accord. Till tender meit my stomok is ay usit,
For quhylis I fair als weill as ony lord.
Thir widderit1 peis and nuttis, or2 thay be bord, Will brek my teith and mak my wame full sklender3, Quhilk wes befoir usit to meittis tender."
" Weill, weill, sister," quod the rurall Mous, " Gif it pleis yow, sic thingis as ye se heir,
Baith meit and drink, harberie4 and hous, Sal be your awin, will ye remane all yeir ; Ye sail it haif with blyith and merie cheir,
And that suld mak the maissis:) that ar rude,
Amang freindis richt tender and wonder gude.
" Quhat plesure is in feistis delicate,
The quhilkis ar gevin with ane glowmand bro\v ?
Ane gentill hart is better recreat
With blyith enrage then seith6 till him ane kow : Ane modicum is mair for till allow,
Swa that gude-will be kerver at the dais,
V ill-humoured Than tlirawin vult" and in ony spycit mais." look.
6 give possession of.
THE UPLAND IS MO US. 133
For all hir merie exhortatioun,
This burges Mous had lytill will to sing, Bot hevilie scho kest hir browis doun,
For all the daynteis that scho culd hir bring.
Yit at the last scho said, half in hething1, 1 scora-
" Sister, this victuall and your royall feist May weill suffice unto ane rurall beist.
" Lat be this hole, and cum in-to my place,
I sail to yow schaw be experience My Gude-Fryday is better nor your Pace2. 2 Easter-feast.
My dische-weschingis is worth your haill3 expence ; 3 whole.
I haif housis anew4 of greit defence ; 4 enough.
Of cat nor fall-trap I haif na dreid." " I grant," quod scho ; and on togidder thay yeid5. 5 went.
In stubbill array, throw rankest gers and corne,
And iinder buskis,6 prevelie couth they creip. 6 bushes.
The eldest wes the gyde and went beforne,
The younger to hir wayis tuke glide keip7. 7 heed.
On nicht thay ran, and on the day can sleip,
Quhill in the morning or the laverock sang8 8 ere lark sang.
Thay fand the toun, and in blythlie couth gang9. 9did«o.
Nocht fer fra thyne10 unto ane worth ie wane 10 thence.
This burges brocht thame sone quhar thai suld be. Without God speid thair herberie wes tane
In-to ane spence11 with vittell greit plentie, 11 larder.
Baith cheis and butter upone thair skelfis hie12, 12 shelves high. And flesche and fische aneuch, baith fresche and salt, And sekkis full of meill and eik of malt.
1 34 X OBER T HENR YSON.
Efter, quhen thay disposit wer to dyne,
1 washed. Withouttin grace thay wesche1 and went to meit,
With all the coursis that cuikis culd defyne,
2 sUxjeif m great Muttouri and beif strikin in tailyeis greit2;
And lordis fair thus couth thay counterfeit, Except ane thing — thay drank the watter cleir Instead of wyne ; bot yit thay maid gude cheir.
3 raillery. With blyith upcast3 and merie countenance
4 asked her The eldest sister sperit at hir gaist,4
guest.
Gif that scho be ressone fand difference
5 sorry. Betuix that chalmer and hir sarie5 nest?
"Yea dame," quod scho, "How lang will this lest?" o wot. " For evermair, I wait,6 and langc-r to."
"Gif it be swa ye ar at eis," quod scho.
7 To add to. Til eik7 thair cheir ane subcharge8 furth scho brocht,
8 second course. . . , . 0 . ,. , , .. , ...
9oatswithimsks Aue plait of grottis9 and ane dische full of meill, lo^'heaten Thraf-caikkis10 als I trow scho spairit nocht Aboundantlie about hir for to deill,
11 a rich bread. ^nd maneii fyne sci,o i>rOcht in-steid of geill12,
12 jelly.
is stolen. And ane quhyte candill out of ane coffer stall13
Iu-steid of spyce to gust thair mouth withall.
14 tin. Thus maid thay merie quliill14 thay micht na mair,
And, Haill, Yule, haill ! cryit upon hie. Yit efter joy oftymes cummis cair, And troubill efter greit prosperitie, Thus, as thay sat in all thair jolitie, The Spenser15 come with keyis in his hand, Opinit the dure, and thame at denner fand.
THE UPLAND IS MO US.
135
They taryit nocht to wesche as I suppose.
But on to ga qulia that micht formest win1. The burges had ane hoill, and in scho gois,
Hir sister had na hoill to hyde hir in ;
To se that selie Mous it wes greit syn, So desolate and will of ane gude reid2 For veray dreid scho fell in swoim neir deid.
Bot, as God wald, it fell ane happy cace3 The Spenser had na laser for to byde,
Nouther to seik nor serche, to skar nor chace, Bot on he went, and left the dure up wyde. The bald burges his passing weill hes spyde ;
Out of hir hoill scho come, and cryit on hie,
" How fair ye sister ? Cry peip quhair-ever ye be 1 "
This rural Mous lay flatling on the ground, And for the deith scho wes full sair dredand,
For till hir hart straik mony wofull stound4 ; As in ane fever scho triinbillit fute and hand, And quhan hir sister in sic ply5 hir fand,
For verray pietie scho began to greit6,
Syne confort hir with wordis hunny sweit.
" Quhy ly ye thus I Ryse up my sister deir !
Cum to your meit, this perrell is overpast." The uther answerit hir, with hevie cheir,
" I may nocht eit, sa sair I am agast.
I had levir7 thir fourtie dayis fast, With'watter-caill8, and to gnaw benis or peis, Than all your feist, in this dreid and diseis."
1 attain.
2 at a loss for good counsel.
3 chance.
4 l«in-sliocks.
5 sucli plight.
6 weep.
7 leifer, rather.
8 broth made without meat.
'36
ROBERT HENRYSON.
\ caused .
2 Grimalkin.
3 sei/i'd.
With fair tretie yit scho gart1 hir upryse,
And to the burde they went and togidder sat,
Aud scantlie had tliay drunkin anis or twyse Quhen in come Gib-Hunter, our jolie cat, And bad God-speid. The burges up with that,
And till the hoill scho went as fyre of flint.
Bawdronis2 the uther be the bak lies hint3.
4 playful.
5 Sometimes.
Fra fute to fute he kest hir to and fra,
Quhylis up, quhylis doun, als cant4 as ony kid.
Quhylis5 wald he lat hir run under the stra, 6 hide-ami-spok. Quhylis wald he wink, and play with her buk-hid0 Thus to the selie Mous greit pane he did,
Quhill at the last, throw fortune and gude hap,
Betuix ane burde and the wall scho crap.
And up in haist behind ane parpalling7
Scho clam so hie that Gilbert micht not get hir,
Syne be the cluke8 thair craftelie can hing Till he wes gane, hir cheir wes all the bettir; Syne doun scho lap quhen tliair wes nane to let9 hir,
And to the burges Mous loud can scho cry,
" Fairweill, sister, thy feist heir I defy ! "
8 claw.
(i prevent.
11" "Tny niangerie is myngit10 all with cair, n sauce. Thy guse is gude, thy gansell11 sour as gall ;
The subcharge of thy service is bot sair,
So sail thow find heir-efterwart may fall. 12 partition wall. I thank yone courtyne and yone perpall wall1- Of my defence now fra ane crewell beist. Almychty God keip me fra sic ane feist !
THE UPLAND IS MO US. 137
"Wer I in-to the kith1 that I come fra,
For weill nor wo, suld never cum agane." With that scho tuke hir leif and furth can ga,
Quhylis throw the corne and quhylis throw the plane.
Quhen scho wes furth and fre scho wes ful fane2, 2 slad-
And merilie merkit3 unto the mure. 3 hastened, lit.
rode.
I can nocht tell how efterwart scho fure4, 4 fared.
Bot I hard say scho passit to hir den,
Als warme als woll, suppose5 it wes nocht greit, r. although. Full benely stuffit, baith but and ben6, 6aSsffi
Of beinis and nuttis, peis, ry, and quheit; a^nnner*
Quhen-ever scho list scho had aneuch to eit In quyet and eis, withoutin ony dreid ; Bot to hir sisteris feist na mair scho yeid.
MORALITAS.
•
Friendis, ye may fynd, and7 ye will tak heid, 7 if.
In-to this fabill ane gude moralitie. As fitchis myngit ar with nobill feid,
Swa intermynglit is adversitie
With eirthlie joy, swa that na estait is fre, And als troubill and sum vexatioun ;
And namelie8 thay quhilk climmis up maist hie, 8 notoriously. That ar nocht content with small possession!).
Blissit be sempill lyfe withoutin dreid !
Blissit be sober feist in quyetie ! Quha hes aneuch, of na mair lies he neid,
Thocht it be lytill in-to quantitie.
1 security.
1 38 ROBER T HENR YSON.
Greit abondance and blind prosperitie Oftymes makis ane evill conclusioun.
The sweitest lyfe thairfor in this cuntrie Is sickernes1, with small possessioun.
0 wantoun man, that usis for to feid Thy wambe, and makis it ane god to be,
2 without fear. Luik to thy-self ! I warne thee wele, but dreid- :
The cat cummis and to the mous lies ee.
Quhat vaillis than thy feist and rialtie, With dreidful hart and tribulacioun ?
Thairfoir best thing in eird, I say, for me, Is blyithnes in hart, with small possessioun.
3 a tiny flame. Thy awin fyre, my friend, sa it be bot ane gleid3,
It warmis weill, and is worth gold to thee ; And Solomon sayis, gif that thow will reid,
" Under the hevin it can nocht better be
Than ay be blyith and leif in honestie." Quhairfoir I may conclude be this ressoun,
Of eirthly joy it beiris maist degrie, Blyithnes in hart, with small possessioun.
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
A LIKENESS in some respects has already been remarked between the temper and condition of Rome in the time of Augustus and of Scotland in the time of James IV. The resemblance may even be traced in the personality of the poets of the two epochs. Gavin Douglas, the courtly poet-churchman of James the Fourth's time, may in some degree be likened to the grave and stately Virgil, whose work he translated ; and still more closely may a likeness be remarked, in character and fortunes, between the Roman Horace and the most brilliant poet of the middle ages in Scotland, William Dunbar. Both of these latter were courtiers by compulsion, longing continually to escape to the quiet of easy ways. Both were keen men of the world and epicureans by nature, loving pleasure, and without any burning desire to inflame the world with new ideals ; both had a twinkle of the eye for the peccadilloes of themselves or their friends, and a curl of the lip that could give a bitter turn to satire upon their enemies ; while both used supreme poetic gifts, prodigal of form and colour, largely for the purpose of securing material favours, and as a resource for the
142 WILLIAM D UNBAR.
expression of private and personal feeling. If in anything they differed it was that while the Roman poet apparently with calm wisdom took what fortune brought him, and made the most of it, there was in the heart of the Scottish makar* a hunger, wistful, eager, that was to ask to the end unsatisfied. Behind all the glory of those days the reign of James IV. was a time of failing faith in Scotland. The ancient religion of the country was crumbling in corruption to ruin, and men, Dunbar among them, were seeking in the absence of a larger vision, to live for the immediate pleasures of the hour. Of the dweller in such a time, the heart self-centred in its own desires, the ancient saying remains perennially true, " He that seeketh his life shall lose it."
Born, it is supposed, about the year 1460, Dunbar, from allusions in his famous " Flyting with Kennedy," appears to have been a native of Lothian and a member of Cospatrick's clan. Laing was inclined to consider him a grandson of Sir Patrick Dunbar of Beill in East Lothian, a younger son of the tenth Earl of March. In 1475 he was sent to the University of St. Andrews, where he received the degree of B.A. in 1477, and of M.A. in 1479. His life for the following twenty years is but vaguely known. It is possible that he pursued his studies at Oxford, one of his poems bearing the colophon "Quod Dunbar
* Dr. Irvine quotes from Sir Philip Sidney's Apofoyie for Poetry a remark upon the similarity between the European word " }>oet," from the Greek iroiftv, to make, and the native northern term " makar," or maker ; "which name, how high and incom- parable a title it is, I had rather were knowne, by marking the scope of other sciences, then by my partial! allegation."
WILLIAM DUNBAR. 143
at Oxinfurde." But there is an Oxenford Castle near Edinburgh whence the poem may have been dated, or Dunbar may have written it when casually visiting the English university town. From his poem " How Dunbar wes desyrd to be ane Freir " it is to be gathered that, entering the Order of St. Francis, the Gray Friars, he spent several years of novitiate as a wandering preacher, making good cheer in every pleasant town between Berwick and Calais, mounting the pulpit at Dernton and Canterbury, even crossing the Straits of Dover, and exercising his profession through Picardy. In these wanderings he pleads guilty to "mony wrink and wyle, quhilk mycht be flemit with na haly watter " ; from which confession it may be understood that he was neither much better nor much worse than the other preaching friars of his time.
A little later, from allusions in his poems, he appears to have entered the service of James IV., and to have been employed on several of that monarch's numerous embassies to foreign courts. It is known, at any- rate, that in 1491 he was residing at Paris, probably in connection with the embassy there. In 1500 he received from his royal master a pension of £10 as a foretaste of favours to come. In the following year he went to England with the ambassadors sent to conclude negotiations for the marriage of James to the Princess Margaret. There during the state festivities he was styled " the Rhymer of Scotland," and upon at least one occasion he is recorded as having given evidence of his powers. " In the Christmas week," says the chronicler
144 WILLIAM DUNBAR.
" the Mair had to dyner the ambassadors of Scotland, whom accompanyed my Lord Chaunceler and other Lords of the realm ; where, sittying at dyner, ane of the said Scottis givying attendance upon a Bishop Ambassador, the which was reputed to be a Proto- notary of Scotland and servant of the Ld. Bishop, made this balade." The "balade," which is given at length, is that beginning, "London thou art of townes A per se."*
During the Embassy Dunbar is known to have received from Henry VII. two separate gifts of £6 13s. 4d., and on his return to Edinburgh the Treasurer's accounts show him to have received £5 in addition to his salary. Apart from the joyous occasion, it is probable that these gifts mark the special approbation of the poet's services by the English and Scottish monarchs. It was at this period (1503) that, besides several poems describing the attractions of the young princess, he composed his magnificent allegory, "The Thrissil and the Rois," upon the marriage of James and Margaret. This work may be taken to have crowned his services as laureate. At anyrate it is certain that from the time of its composition he lived much at court, apparently on familiar terms with the king and queen. In one poem he describes " A Dance in the Quenis Chalmer " in which he himself takes part.
Than cam in Dunbar the mackar ; On all the flure there was nane frackar.
* The incident is quoted from MS. Cott. Vitell. A. xvi., l.y Dr. jEneas Mackay (Introduction to Dunbar), who notes that though the reference is to Dunbar, it was Foreman who was tin- Protonotary.
WILLIAM D UNBAR. 145
To another composition, " The Petition of the Gray Horse, Auld Dunbar," in which the poet begs to be housed and stalled, there are appended, under the heading " Responsio Regis," eight lines of direction to the royal treasurer, which, there is fair reason to suppose, may have been added by the king's own hand.
But with whatever familiarity James was willing to treat Dunbar at court, and however far he may have seen fit to assist him in other ways, he refrained from putting the coping-stone upon his benefits, and died without granting the chief object of the poet's ambition, a church benefice. There is no reason for doubting the kindliness of the king's regard for his courtier. In 1504 Dunbar performed mass before James for the first time, and on that occasion was munificently rewarded. In 1507 his pension was increased to £20, and in 1510 to £80, to be paid until he should be promoted to a benefice of £100 or more. And in 1511 he appears to have been in the queen's train when she visited the north of Scotland, to judge from the circumstantial description of her welcome in his poem "Blyth Aberdein." Nevertheless, for reasons which can now only be conjectured, the long-hoped-for benefice was never conferred. It has been suggested that for this omission Dunbar's own imprudence may have been to blame. By his own confession his career as a friar had not been of the most circumspect sort, and many of his poems are, it must be confessed, both indecent and irreverent, one of them, " We that are here in Kevin's
L II
146 WILLIAM DUNBAK.
Glory," being a deliberate profane parody of the litanies, while another, "To the Quene," contains language which might offend a modern courtezan. Conspicuous piety, however, was by no means neces- sary to the candidate for church preferment in those days, and only the most open and gross profligacy could .have stood in the way of the promotion of an ecclesiastic. A more probable cause of Dunbar's prayers for a benefice remaining unanswered, Laing has suggested, might be the desire of James to keej) the poet about his court. It is well known to have been part of the policy of that gallant and enlightened sovereign to retain about him a court of such learning and brilliance as should both impress the ambassadors of foreign powers and render illustrious the country's annals of the time. Whatever the reason, though Dunbar never ceased, by petition, innuendo, and satire, to beg for what he desired, James with a smile, as little embarrassed as might be, appears to have put the petition aside, making up for the main refusal by sundry gifts, pensions, and perquisites. The last of these, a payment of the small sum of forty- two shillings, appears in the treasurer's accounts for 1st April 1513. Five months afterwards the fortunes of Dunbar were to fall with the pride of Scotland, the gallant James himself, on the field of Flodden.
The cloud which then settled on the country obscures the remainder of the poet's life. It is pos- sible that his pension continued to be paid, the treasurer's accounts from 1513 to 1515, and from 1518 to 1522 having been lost. And it is just possible that
WILLIAM D UNBA K. 1 47
before marching to the field James conferred upon Dunbar his long-craved-for desire, a benefice. But the probability is that with the death of the king, and the unpopularity of the queen, the lamp of the poet's hopes went out, leaving the rest of his life in the darkness of disappointment. From several of his poems it is to be gathered that he lived to an advanced age. He was alive in 1517, as one of his compositions celebrates the passing of the Regent Albany into France in that year. The year 1520 is generally assigned as the date of the poet's death, and it is at least certain that he was dead ten years later, since the fact is alluded to in the prologue to " The Complaynt of the Papingo " written by Sir David Lindsay about 1530.
Before he died a change seems to have come upon the spirit of Dunbar. The levity of his earlier years appears to have been forsaken, and several of his poems are composed in a moral and religious strain. It would seem as if at last " the false world's wavering, " the bitterness of final disappointment, had broken his gay and ambitious heart, and filled him with a pro- found sadness. It was a fit if sorrowful end for a career so full of contradictions. At war throughout with destiny, denied the worldly prize he craved, debarred by his vows from the solace of woman's love, Dunbar's life was typical of the genus irritabile. A parallel cannot fail to be seen between his fate and the fate of his great successor Robert Burns. Both, Avith hearts too keenly alive and eager for the joy of life, were doomed to meet only " the slings and arrows
148 WILLIAM DUNBAR.
of outrageous fortune," and in both their real achieve- ment, the blaze of poetry which has been their magnificent legacy to Scotland, Avas struck, as if by accident, out of too sharp contact with the flinty ways of life. But between the two there was a vital difference. While the sorrows of the Ayrshire poet opened his heart to the pathos of existence and gave to his verse its high tragic quality, its profound pity and tenderness, disappointment only filled the heart of Dunbar with bitterness and drove the iron into his soul.
The first volume issued from the Scottish press, the book printed by Chepman & My liar in 1508, contained several of Dunbar's poems, including "The Thrissil and the Rois," "The Goldyn Targe," and "The Lament for the Makaris." Only one copy of this volume, that in the Advocates' Library, is known to exist, but from this copy the book was reprinted in 1827 with the title of The Knightly Tale of Gologras and Gawane, and other Ancient Poems. The majority of the poet's existing works have been preserved in manuscripts, the Bannatyne MS., 1568, the Asloan MS., 1575, the Maitland MS. in the Pepysian Library, and the Reidpeth MS., 1623, in the University Library, Cambridge, each containing several. From these sources detached poems were printed in the collec- tions of Allan Ramsay, John Pinkerton, Lord Hailes, and James Sibbald. But it remained to Mr. David Laing in 1834 to issue the first collected edition of the works of Dunbar, as "the best monument that could be erected to his genius." A supplement to this
W1L LI A M D UNBA K. 149
was issued in 1875; in 1873 appeared in Edinburgh "The Works of William Dunbar, including his Life," by James Paterson ; and in 1883 a new edition of the poet's works was prepared for the Scottish Text Society by Mr. John Small, M.A., with, in 1888, a copious introduction by Dr. ^Eneas Mackay. Dunbar has also received attention on the Continent, Dr. Mackay declaring Prof. Schipper's edition (Berlin, 1884) to be the best book on the poet.
Apart from the works which must inevitably have been lost, no fewer than a hundred and one poems remain to the present day accredited to the genius of Dunbar. Of eleven of these, including the scarcely doubtful " Freiris of Berwik," the authenticity is not absolutely proved, but the remaining ninety include the work upon which his chief fame rests. No early poet has attempted so great a variety, either in subject, in style, or in form of verse, as Dunbar. In varying temper and on varying occasion he has essayed nearly every role of poetry, and to each he has given the supreme touch of the master-hand. Allegory, satire, and moral musing, invective, comic narrative, and natural description, personal pleading, courtly compli- ment, and the wild riot of Rabelaisian farce, all are here, treading each inimitably its appropriate measure. Smock and gay doublet, blackthorn cudgel and friar's hood, flashing rapier and dazzling pageant dress, each is assumed as occasion asks, and none is laid down till its part has been played to perfection.
In the stateliest efforts of his muse Dunbar followed the poetic fashion of his time. " The Goldyn Targe "
150 WILLIAM DUNBAR.
and " The Thrissil and the Rois " are allegories in the strain introduced to Scotland by the great poem of James the First. Of these two " The Thrissil and the Rois" shares the advantage of "The Kingis Quair" in having for its subject a historic fact. An interest beyond that of most allegories is added to Dunbar's poem by the knowledge that it celebrates the union between James IV. and the Princess Margaret, daughter of Henry VII., which was to have such momentous issue three generations later in the union of the English and Scottish crowns. The event is celebrated with a rich- ness of colour, imagery, and music, and a wealth and splendour of description which are hardly to be rivalled in the same field. In this poem, describing the young queen, Dunbar rises to his noblest vision of womanhood, and it may well be believed that such an epithalamium set the seal to a lasting friendship between the royal pair and the poet. By I^anghorne in his Genius and Valour it was named as the chief work of its author.
In nervous strains Dunbar's bold music Hows And Time still spares the Thistle and the Rose.
*' The Goldyn Targe," nevertheless, has by some been •considered Dunbar's masterpiece in that style of poetry. "All the beauties of 'The Thistle and the Rose,'" says Dr. Merry Ross, "are here seen in rarer and more sparkling perfection. The scenes and figures are painted in brighter colours, and the music of the verse lias a more voluptuous swell." The intention of the poem is to set forth that the golden targe, or shield of reason, proves an untrustworthy defence
WILLIAM DUNBAR. 151
against the assaults of love. From its gorgeous opening the pageant of the poet's fantasy moves on, glowing and glittering, fair, and alive with swaying, sensuous imagery, without a lapse, to the end, a picture appropriate to, and worthy of, the vital truth which it illustrates.
Another brief allegory by Dunbar on a like subject beginning " Sen that I am a Presoneir," has a charm of its own in its lighter but still perfect setting.
To Chaucer must be attributed the suggestion of the two considerable poems, " The Tua Mariit Wemen and the Wedo " and "The Freiris of Berwik." The latter is a comic tale, modelled exactly on Chaucer's style, but related with a sustained vigour and interest which characterises only the best of that poet's work. It is to be regretted that the authorship of the poem is not absolutely attested. "If," says a competent critic, " ' The Freiris of Berwik ' is not the work of Dunbar, then Scotland has a nameless poet of the same age, who, in comic humour, richness of invention, knowledge of human nature, skill in the arrangement of detail, and a charming vivacity of narrative, rivals the author of the Canterbury Tales." "The Freiris of Berwik " furnished Allan Ramsay with something more than the suggestion of his tale of "The Monk and the Miller's Wife." "The Tua Mariit Wemen and the Wedo " treats of a subject some- what similar to that of Chaucer's " Wife of Bath's Tale," but the methods and morals of the two poems are widely different. Dunbar's poem " presents us with the only specimen of blank verse which the ancient
11,2 WILLIAM DUNK A R.
Scottish Language affords." The rhythm is of the kind employed by the early Anglo-Saxon poets, and bor- rowed from them by the author of " Piers Plowman." Alliteration supplies the place of rhyme. In each double line there should be three words beginning with the same letter, and by the rule two of these should occur in the first and the other should begin the second part of the line. Neither Dunbar nor the author of " Piers Plowman," however, followed the rule exactly. The Scottish poem has been justly praised for its richness of description, though its language, owing to the necessities of the versification, may sometimes appear obscure. The opening passage, as perhaps the finest, may be quoted :
Apon the Midsuinor t-.win, nurriest of nichtis, I nmvit furth allanc, neir as midnicht wcs past, Besyd ane gudlie groin gai'tli, full of gay flouris, Hcgeit of ane huge hicht with hawthorne treis, Quhairon ane bird on ane bransche so birst out hir notis That neuer ane blythl'ullar bird was on the beuche harde. Quhat throw the sugarat sound of hir sang glaid And throw the sauar sanatiue of the sueit flouris, I drew in derne to the dyk to dirkin efter myrthis ; The dew donkit the daill and dynuit the foulis.
I liard, vnder ane holyn hewinlie grein licwit, Ane hie spcirhr. at my hand, with hautand wounlis ; With that in liaist t<> tin; liege so hard I inthrang That I was heildit with hawthorn and with lieynd lovd^. Throw ]»ykis of the p!et thorne I presandlie luikit (!if ony [lersoun \vald approdie within that plesand garding.
I saw tlire gay ladi-is sit in ane grein arbeir, All grathit in-to garlandis of fresche gndelie nouri.s. So glitterit as the gold \vi-t (hair glorius gilt tressis, Quhill all the gressis did glenie of the glaid ln-wi*. Ki-inmit was thair ck-ir hair, and curiouslie schcd
WILLIAM DUNBAR. 153
Attour thair schulderis doun schyre, schyning full bricht, With curches, cassin thanie ahone, of kirap cleir and thin. Thair mantillis grein war as the gress that grew in May sessoun, Fetrit with thair quhyt fingaris about thair fair sydis. Of ferlifull fyne favour war thair faceis meik, All of flurist fairheid, as flouris in June, Quhyt, seimlie, and soft, as the sweit lillies, New vpspred vpon spray, as new spynist rose.
Arrayit ryallie about with mony rich wardour, That Nature full nobillie annaraalit fine with flouris Off alkin hewis under hewin that ony heynd knew, Fragrant, all full of fresche odour fynest of smell, Ane marbre tabile coverit wes bcfoir thai thre ladeis With ryale cowpis apon rawis, full of ryche wynis. And of thir fair wlonkes, with tua [that] weddit war with lordis, Ane wes ane wedow I wist, wantoun of laitis. And as thai talkit at the tabill of mony taill funde Thay wauchtit at the wicht wyne, and warit out wourdis, And syne thai spak more spedelie, and sparit no materis.
•The " materis " treated of in this long conversation are the opinions of the three ladies upon the obliga- tions of marriage. The sentiments uttered are of the most profligate sort, one of the wives expressing her wishes thus :
Chenyeis ay ar to eschew, and changeis ar sueit.
Sic cursit chance till eschew had I my chois anis
Out of the chenyeis of ane ohurle I chaip suld for euir.
God gif matrimony were made to mell for ane yeir !
It war bot monstrous to be mair bot gif our myndis pleisit.
Dunbar's idea of womanhood touches its nadir in this poem, and the effect is the more unwholesome from the fact that the most licentious and sensual imaginings are put into the mouths, not of degraded women, but of the most lovely and modest-seeming of the sex.
But it is when he leaves the initiative of others
154 WILLIAM DUN BAR.
behind and enters a realm of his own that Dunbar's powers are seen in their full strength and exuberance. " The Dance of the Sevin Deidly Synnis " is the most powerful of all his works. No such daring grotesquerie ever was painted, before or since, for a carnival riot on the eve of Lent. In " Tarn o' Shanter " there is a familiar touch which softens the horrible, and Goethe's " Walpurgis Night "has a mournful human under-strain ; but here the picture is unrelieved ; an iron curtain seems pushed aside, and a moment's bewildering glimpse is caught of the actual lurid turmoil of hell. The poem is realistic and fearfully vivid in its details, and in the days when it was written must have appeared to its readers as horrible as it is startling.
In the same lower region the poet set the scene of another grotesque production, "The Turnament," a contest between a tailor and souter, or shoemaker. This and the long and somewhat obscure " Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy " furnish specimens of such extravagant scurrility and dirt, without containing anything morally impure, as it would be difficult to match out of Rabelais. It is curious to think that the " Flyting," with all its villanous abuse, was probably nothing more than a friendly tilting match between two famous free-lances. Irving notes the fact that a similar abusive contest was carried on in the time of Lorenzo de Medici by Luigi Pulci ami Matteo Franco, who were nevertheless close friends, and that in our country the example of Dunbar and Kennedy was followed by James V.
WILLIAM DUNBAR. 155
and Sir David Lindsay, and by Montgomery and Hume. Formal rules, indeed, for such encounters were laid down by James VI. in his Art of Poesie. The elaborate "Flyting," nevertheless, it is to be feared, is apt to prove somewhat wearisome reading now-a-days. The " Turnament," on the other hand, with its wild, if coarse, fun, would appear to have excited the ire of members of the crafts burlesqued, and under the guise of an apology to the offended guildsmen the poet wrote an "Amendis," which is one of the most salt of his satires.
It was personal feeling, however, which gave their bitterest tang to many of the satires of Dunbar. Two of these concern a certain Italian impostor, one John Daiuiau from Lombardy, who, on the strength of a professed ability to convert the baser metals into gold, effected a footing as physician and alchemist at the court of James IV., and in 1504 was made Abbot of Tungland in Galloway. Three years later, accord- ing to Bishop Lesley,* having failed to produce the promised gold, Darnian, to maintain his reputation, gave out that he would fly from the walls of Stirling Castle to France. This he actually attempted, and on the appointed day, furnished with a huge pair of wings, he plunged from the castle rampart ; but instead of flying through the heavens he fell to the ground beneath and broke his thigh-bone. Such a subject was not to be missed by the satirist, affording, as it did, a contrast between the high preferment bestowed on quackery and the neglect to which modest merit was * The historian of James the Fourth's reign.
156 WILLIAM DUNBAR.
relegated. In "The Fenyeit Freir of Tungland" the poet has made the most of the episode. It is " a rare specimen of burlesque spiced with gay malice."
In many poems Dunbar did not hesitate to set forth his grievance in plain words to the king, coming in several cases as near to the accent of reproach as was politic in addressing a sovereign. Sometimes these appeals for promotion are almost pathetic in their ex- pression of the sickness that comes of hope deferred ; sometimes, though less frequently, they are couched in a humorous form, as in " The Petition of the Gray Horse." They give here and there a pitiful revelation of the poet in his need, improvident while his means last, watching with a sigh the constant preferment of duller souls, while age creeps fast upon him, and the hunger of his heart remains unsatisfied.
In one considerable class of his poems, as has been said, a moral and philosophical vein is touched, and it i.s supposed that these were chiefly written in his latter days. Some of them, such as " Best to be Blyth " and " Meditatioun in Wynter," take a cheerful turn, but, like the personal petitions addressed to the king, most are tinged with the shade of melancholy. All, however, show a deep appreciation of the peculiarities of human nature, and an accurate gauging of the secret springs of human motives, foibles, and passions. "The Lament for the Makaris" is the best known of these moral poems, and is, besides, a specimen of the sort of macaronic verse, the fantastic mixture of tongues, which was then a poetic fashion. The reflections of the poem are simple, and its tone
WILLIAM D UNBAR. 157
uniformly sad. Youth and loveliness, bravery and wit, all come to an end, and even the poets, for all their sweet service, cannot escape the hand of death. As a historical document, a record of the names of early Scottish singers, this composition has been of the greatest value ; but it is something more than this ; it is a noble elegy on the illustrious dead, sung by lips that have thirsted and found life bitter.
Of Dunbar's work and character as a whole numerous estimates have been made. Merry Ross appears inclined to consider as his highest quality "a certain unique intensity of feeling," the expression of that " passionate or indomitable force, even tending to extravagance and one-sided zeal, which distinguishes and differentiates the people of the north from their southern neighbours, and is particularly conspicuous in all their foremost men."* Scott did not hesitate to set Dunbar in several respects upon a level with Chaucer. "In brilliancy of fancy," he declares, "in force of description, in the power of conveying moral precepts with terseness, and marking lessons of life with conciseness and energy, in quickness of satire and in poignancy of humour, the Northern Makar may boldly aspire to rival the Bard of Woodstock, "f On the makar's vital shortcoming, on the other hand, the critics seem agreed. Brilliant beyond any of the poet company he sang, Dunbar still lacked one thing to set him in the ranks of the greatest of the immortals. That place is reserved for those
* Scottish History and Literature, p. 215. t Memoirs of George Bannatyne, 1829, p. 14.
158 WILLIAM DUN BAR.
alone who, supreme in other gifts, possess also the key to the fountain of tears. Humour the wildest, wit the keenest, imagination the richest and most glowing, illumine his page ; but nowhere, except lightly in " The Lament for the Makaris," and in one little love poem perhaps, does he stir the deeper currents of the heart. No storm of tragic passion or tenderness sweeps through his verse, the joys and sorrows, the hopes and fears, the toils and hardships of common life were nothing to him. The gentler part of existence was shut from him, with the pure ministry of womanhood, by his priestly vows, and while lord alike of beauty and terror, of bewitching fantasies and mocking laughter, he leaves one side of life, and that the truest, entirely untouched. His work reflects the ideals and life of Scotland at a time when the old world with its faith was passing away. Nothing of the warm breath and promise of a spring- time is to be found in his pages. His gorgeous colour and splendid imaginings are like the glories of the autumn forest, the fires in the withering leaf.
In the spirit of his time is to be found at once the keynote and the shortcoming of Dunbar's life and poetry. In an atmosphere of nobler aspiration his genius might have burned with a purer flame. As it is, he holds a great place, second only to that of Robert Burns, in the gallery of Scottish poets.
THE GOLDYN TARGE.
>YGHT as the stem of day begouth to schyne, Quhen gone to bed war Vesper and Lucyne,
I raise and by a rosere1 did me rest ; Wp sprang the goldyn candill matutyne With clere depurit bemes cristallyne, Glading the mirry foulis in thair nest ; Or2 Phebus was in purpur kaip revest Wp sprang the lark, the hevinis menstrale fyne, In May, in-till a morow3 myrthfullest.
Full angellike thir birdis sang thair houris4 Within thair courtyns5 grene in-to thair bouris,
Apparalit quhyte and red, wyth blumys suete; Anamalit was the felde wyth all colouris, The perly droppis schuke in silvir schouris,
Quhill all in balme did branch and levis flete6 ;
Depairt fra Phebus, did Aurora grete7, Hir cristall teris I saw hyng on the flouris,
Quhilk he for lufe all drank vp with his hete.
For mirth of May, wyth skippis and wyth hoppis,
The birdis sang vpon the tender croppis8 s tree tops.
With courius note, as Venus chapell clerkis : The rosis reid, now spreding of thair knoppis9, 9 knobs, tufts.
1 rose-tree.
2 Ere.
3 morning.
4 morning prayers.
5 gardens.
6 float.
7 weep.
i6o
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
1 beryl. War powderit brycht with hevinly beriall1 dropi)is,
Throu bemes rede birnyng as ruby sperkis; The skyes rang for schoutyng of the larkis,
2 over-spilled. The purpur lievyn onr-scailit2 in silvir sloppis,
Our-gilt the treis, branchis, leivis and barkis.
3 brushwcKXl.
4 pleasantly.
5 likened flames.
6 branches.
7 on high.
8 gravel.
Doun thrwch ryss3 ane ryuir ran wyth stremys, So lustily4 agayn thai lykand leiny.s'
That all the lake as lamp did leme of licht, Quhilk schadovit all about wyth twynkling glemis, That bewis" bathit war in secund bemys
Throu the reflex of Phebus visage brycht.
On every syde the hegeis raise on hicht7, The bank was grene, the bruke vas full of bremys,
The stanneris8 clere as sterne in frosty nycht.
9 garden.
10 rose-red, delicate.
lltose*.
12 rock.
13 shining.
The cristall air, the sapher firmament, The ruby skyes of the orient,
Kest beriall bemes on emerant bewis grene ; The rosy garth9, depaynt and redolent With purpur, azure, gold, and goulis gent10,
Arayed was by dame Fflora the quene
So nobily that ioy was for to sene11 : The roch12 agayn the rywir resplendent
As low13 enlumynit all the leues schene14.
Quhat throu the mery foulys armony,
And throu the ryueris sounn that ran me by,
On Fflorais mantill I slepit quhair I lay, Quliare sone in-to my dremes fantasy
THE GOLDYN TARGE. 161
I saw approch agayn the orient sky
Ane saill als quhite as blossum vpon spray, Wyth mast of gold, brycht as the stern of day,
Quhilk tendit to the land full lustily, As falcoun swift desyrouse of hir pray.
And hard on burd1 vnto the blomyt medis, i ground.
Amangis the grene rispis2 and the redis, 2 coarse grasses.
Arrivit scho ; quhar-fro anone thare landis Ane hundreth Jadyes, lusty in-till wedis, Als fresch as flouris that in the May vp spredis,
In kirtillis grene, withoutyii kell3 or bandis4 ; \ cauf' **?•. .
4 neckerchiefs.
Thair brycht hairis hang gletering on the strandis In tressis clere, wyppit5 wyth goldyn thredis, 5 bound round.
With pappis quhite, and middillis small as wandis.
Discriue I wald, bot quho cowth wele endyte How all the feldis wyth thai lilies quhite
Depayntwar brycht, quhilk to the hevin did glete6? 6 gleam. Noucht thou, Homer, als fair as thow cowth wryte, For all thi ornate style' so perfyte,
Nor yit thou, Tullius, quhois lippis suete
Off rethorike did in-to termis nete7 : 7 float.
Your aureate tongis both bene all to lyte8 8 too little.
For to compile that paradise complete.
Thare saw I Nature, and [dame] Venus quene,
The fresch Aurora, and lady Flora schene9, 9 beautiful.
luno, [Latona] and Proserpyna, Dyane, the goddesse chaste of woddis grene,
162
WILLIAM D UNBAR.
1 help of poets is. My lady Cleo that help of makaris bene1,
Thetes, Pallas, and prudent Minerua,
2 feigned. fair fevnit2 Fortune and lemand3 Lucina
3 sliiniiii,'.
Thir mychti quenis in crounis mycht be sene, Wyth bemys blith, bricht as Lucifera.
4 rejoice sud- denly.
There saw I May, of myrthfull monethis queue, Betuix Aprile and June, her sisteris schene,
Within the gairdene walking vp and doun, Quham of the foulis gladdith al bedene4 ; Scho was full tender in-till hir yeris grene.
Thare saw I Nature present hir a goune
Kich to behald and nobil of renoune, Off ewiry hew that vnder the hevin hes bene
Depaynt, and braid be gude proporcioun.
5 company.
6 covered with rank leaves.
r Saluted.
Full lustily thir ladyes all in fere5 Enterit within this park of most plesere,
Quhare that I lay helit wyth leuis ronk6 ; The mery foulis, blisfullest of chere, Salust7 Nature, me-thocht, in thair manere,
And ewiry blome on branch and eke on bonk
Opnyt and spred thair balmy leuis donk, Full low enclynyng to thair Quene full clere,
Quham of thair nobill nvrissing thay thonk.
s Afterwards. Syne8 to dame Flora on the samyn wyse
9 times. Thay saluse and thay thank a thousand syse9,
And to dame "VVenus, lufis mychti quene, 10 guise, fashion. Thay sang ballattis in lufe, as was the gyse10,
THE GOLDYN TARGE.
163
"With amourouse notis most lusty to devise, As thay that had lufe in thair hertis grene; Thair hony throtis, opnyt fro the splene1,
With warbillis suete did perse the hevinly skyes, Quhill loud resownyt the firmament serene.
1 from the heart.
Ane-othir court thare saw I subsequent ; Cupide the king, wyth bow in hand ay bent
And dredefull arowis grundyn scharp and square ; Thare saw I Mars, the god armypotent, Aufull and sterne, strong and corpolent;
Thare saw I crabbit Saturn aid and haire2,
His luke was lyke for to perturb the aire ; Thare was Marcourius, wise and eloquent,
Of rhethorike that fand3 the flouris faire.
2 hoar.
3 found.
Thaire was the god of gardynis, Priapus ; Thare was the god of wildernes, Phanus ;
And lanus, god of entres4 delytable ; Thare was the god of fludis, Neptunus ; Thare was the god of windis, Eolus,
With variand luke, rycht lyke a lord vnstable ;
Thare was Bachus, the gladder of the table ; Thare was Pluto, the elrich5 incubus,
In cloke of grene, his court usit no sable.
4 entries.
5 uncanny,, elvish.
And ewiry one of thir6, in grene arayit, On harp or lute full merily thai playit,
Ajid sang ballettis with michty notis clere. Ladyes to dance full sobirly assayit,
6 these.
1 64
WILLIAM D UNBAR.
\ Along. Emllang1 the lusty rywir so thai mayit ;
Thair obseruance rycht hevynly was to here.
Than crap I throu the leuis and drew nere, Quhare that I was richt sudaynly affrayit 2iwnght. All throu a hike quhilk I haue coft- full dere.
And schortly for to speke, of lufis quene I was aspyit. Scho bad hir archearis kene
Go me arrest; and thay no time delayit. Than ladyes fair lete fall thair mantillis grene, With bowis big in tressit hairis schene.
All sudaynly thay had a felde arayit ;
And yit rycht gretly was I noucht affrayit, The party was so plesand for to sene3.
A wonder lusty bikar* me arayit.
5 confound,
destroy.
« company.
And first of all, with bow in hand ay bent, Come dame Bewty rycht as scho wald me schent8 ;
Syne folowit all hir dammosallis in feir6, With mony diuerse aufull instrument, Wnto the pres ; Fair Having wyth hir went,
Fyne Portrature, Plesance, and lusty Chere.
Than come Resoun, with schelde of gold so clere. In plate and maille, as Mars armypotent,
Defendit me that nobil cheuallere.
Syne tender Youth come wyth hir virgenis ying Grene Innocence, and shamefull Abaising,
And quaking Drede, wyth humyll Obedience. The Goldyn Targe harmyt thay no-thing;
THE GOLDYN TARGE. 165
Curage in thame was noucht begonne to spring;
Full sore thay dred to done a violence.
Suete Woman hede I saw cum in presence ; Of artilye1 a warld sche did in bring, i artillery.
Seruit wyth ladyes full of reuerence.
Scho led with hir Nurture and Lawlyness,
Continwance2, Pacience, Gude Fame, and Stedfastnes, 2 Continence.
Discretioun, Gentrise3, and Considerance, 3 Gentlehood.
Lefull4 Company and Honest Besynes 4 Lawful.
Benigne Luke, Mylde Chere, and Sobirnes.
All thir bure ganyeis5 to do me greuance, 5 darts.
But Eesoun bure the Targe wyth sik6 Constance 6 such. Thair scharp assayes mycht do no dures
To me for all thair aufull ordynance.
Wnto the pres persewit Hie Degre ; Hir folowit ay Estate and Dignitee,
Comparisoun, Honour, and Noble Array, Will, Wantonness, Renoun, and Libertee, Richesse, Fredome, and eke Nobilitee.
Wit ye thay did thair baner hye display;
A cloud of arowis as hayle-schour lousit thay And schot, quhill7 wastit was thair artilye, 7 tin.
Syne went abak rebutit8 of thair pray. 8 repulsed.
Quhen Venus had persauit this rebute, Dissymilance scho bad go mak persute,
At all powere to perse the Goldyn Targe ; And sclio that was of doubilnes the rute
1 66
WILLIAM DUN BAR.
\ means of Askit hir choise of archeris in refute1.
achievement,
2 choose. Wenus the best bad hir to wale2 at large;
» pledge. Scho tuke Presence plicht3 anker of the barge,
4 an arrow. And Fair Callyng that wele a flayn4 coud schute, And Cherising for to complete hir charge.
Dame Hamelynes scho tuke in company, 6»kHftii. That hardy was, and hende5 in archery,
And brocht dame Bewty to the felde agayn. With all the choise of Venus cheualry e m.-wie assault. Thay come, and bikkerit6 vnabaisitly.
The schour of aro\vis rappit on as rayn ;
7 'scions'sn'oots. Perrellus Presence, that mony syre7 has slayne, s took place on The bataill broucht on bordour8 hard me by;
the teach. » '
9 s-.rer, truth to The salt was all the sarar. suth to sayn9.
say.
Thik was the schote of grundyn dartis kene ; Bot Resoun with the Scheld of Gold so schene
Weirly10 defendit, quho-so-ewir assayit. The aufull stoure11 he manly did sustene, Quhill Presence kest a pulder in his ene, 12 went astray. And than as drunkyn man he all forvayit12.
Quhen he was blynd the fule wyth liym thay playit, And banyst hym amang the bewis grene.
That sair sicht me sudaynly affrayit.
10 In warlike fashion.
11 storm.
Than was I woundit till the deth wele nere And yoldyn as a wofull prisonnere
To lady Bewty in a moment space. Me-thocht scho semyt lustiar of chere
THE GOLDYN TARGE.
167
Efter that Resoun had tynt1 his eyne clere 1 lost.
Than of before, and lufliare of face.
Quhy was thou blyndit, Resoun 1 quhi, allace ! And gert2 ane hell my paradise appere, 2 caused.
And mercy seme, quhare that I fand no grace.
Dissymulance was besy me to sile3
And Fair Calling did oft vpoun me smyle
And Cherising me fed wyth wordis fair; New Acquyntance enbracit me a quhile, And fauouryt me quhill men mycht ga ane myle,
Syne tuk hir leif ; I saw hir nevir mare.
Than saw I Dangere toward me repair; I couth eschew hir presence be no wyle ;
On syde scho lukit wyth ane fremyt fare4.
And at the last Departing cowth hir dresse5, And me delyuerit vnto Hevynesse
For to remayrie, and scho in cure6 me tuke. Be this the Lord of AVyndis, wyth wodenea7, God Eolus, his bugill bleAV I gesse,
That with the blast the leuis all to schuke,
And sudaynly, in the space of ane luke, All was hyne8 went, thare was bot wildernes,
Thare was no more bot birdis, bank, and bruke.
3 blindfold.
4 foreign (unfriendly) bearing.
5 Separation began her treatment.
6 care.
7 fury, madness.
8 hence.
In twynkliug of ane e to schip thai went, And swyth9 vp saile vnto the top thai stent10, ioTtretciied
And with swift course atour11 the flude thay frak1-. n over-
12 sped.
Thay fyrit gunnis wyth polder violent,
i68 WILLIAM DUNHAR.
i smoke. Till that the reke1 raise to the firmament ; 2cmsii. The rockes all resoundit wyth the rak2;
s noise. For reird3 it semyt that the raynbow brak.
4 sprang. Wyth spreit affrayit apon my fete I sprent4,
5 cliffs, ravines. Amang the clewis5 so carefull was the crak.
e awake from my And as I did awalk of my sueving6
dreaming.
The ioyfull birdis merily did syng
For myrth of Phebus tendir bemes schene ; Tmorniu-. Suete war the vapouris, soft the morowing", Halesum the vale, depaynt wyth flouris ying ;
The air attemperit, sobir, and amene ;
8forth8he<1 In quhite and rede was all the felde besene8,
Throu Naturis nubil fresche anamalyng, In mirthfull May of ewiry moneth quene.
0 reuerend Chaucere, rose of rhethoris all, As in our tong ane flour imperial!,
That raise in Britane ewir, quho redis rycht, Thou beris of makaris the tryumph riall; o c«iestiai. Thy fresch anamalit termes celicall9
This mater coud illumynit haue full brycht.
Was thou noucht of oure Inglis all the lycht, Surmounting ewir}' tong terrestrial!,
Alls fer as Mayes morow dois mydnycht?
0 morall Gower, and Ludgate laureate, -.
Your sugurit lippis and toungis aureate
Bene to oure eris cause of grete delyte. Your angelik mouthis most mellifluate
THE GOLDYN TARGE. 169
Our rude langage has clere illumynate,
And faire our-gilt oure speche, that imperfyte
Stude or1 your goldyn pennis schupe2 to wryte. lere.
This He before was bare and desolate Of rethorike, or lusty fresch endyte.
Thou lytill Quair, be ewir obedient, Humble, subiect, and symple of entent
Before the face of ewiry connyng3 wicht, 3 skilful.
I knaw quhat thou of rethorike hes spent. Off all hir lusty rosis redolent
Is none in-to thy gerland sett on hicht4, 4 on high.
Eschame thairfoir, and draw the out of sicht, Rude is thy wede, destitute, bare, and rent,
Wele audit thou be affeirit5 of the licht. 5 afraid.
THE THRISSIL AND THE ROIS.
1 pleasant.
2 morning prayers.
QUEEN Merche wes with variand windis past, And Appryll had, with hir siluer schouris,
Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast, And lusty1 May, that mvddir is of flouris, Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris2
Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,
Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt ;
In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay,
Me-thocht Aurora with hir cristall ene In at the window lukit by the day,
3 greeted. And halsit3 me, with visage paill and grene ;
4 from the heart. On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene4,
" Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering ! Se how the lusty morrow dois vp spring."
Me-thocht fresche May befoir my bed vpstude,
In weid depaynt of mony diuerss hew, 6 meekness. Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude5, In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new, Hevinly of color, quhyt, reid, broun, and blew, Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys, « Bowing. Quhill all the house illumynit of hir lerays0
THE THRISS1L AND THE ROIS.
171
" Slugird," scho said, " awalk1 annone for schame, And in my honour sum-thing thou go wryt ;
The lark hes done the mirry day proclame, To raise vp luvaris with confort and delyt ; Yit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt,
Quhois hairt sum-tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene,
Sangis to mak vndir the levis grene."
"Quhairto," quod I, "sail I vpryse at morrow, For in this May few birdis herd I sing?
Thai haif moir cause to weip and plane thair sorrow ; Thy air it is nocht holsum nor benyng; Lord Eolus dois in thy sessone ring2 ;
So busteous8 ar the blastis of his home,
Amang thy bewis4 to walk I haif forborne."
With that this lady sobirly did smyle,
And said, "Vpryse, and do thy observance;
Thow did promyt, in Mayis lusty quhyle, For to discryve5 the Kois of most plesance. Go se the birdis how thay sing and dance,
Illumynit our6 with orient skyis brycht,
Annamyllit richely with new asur lycht."
2 reigns in thy season.
Snide, powerful. 4 boughs.
5 describe.
6 over.
this wes said, depairtit scho, this quene, And enterit in a lusty gairding gent7; And than, me-thocht, full hestely besene8, In serk and mantill [eftir hirj I went In-to this garth9, most dulce and redolent Off herb and flour and tendir plantis sueit, And grene levis doing of dew doun fleit10.
7 neat (genteel).
8 fitted out.
9 inclosure.
10 causing dew to float down.
172
WILLIAM DUN BAR.
1 The purple sun.
The purpour sone1, with tendir bemys reid, In orient bricht as angell did appeir.
Throw goldin skyis putting vp his lieid, Quhois gilt tressis schone so wondir cleir, That all the world tuke confort, fer and neir,
To luke vpone his fresche and blisfull face,
Doing all sable fro the hevynnis chace.
2 the blissful And as the blisfull sonne of cherarchv2
sound of the
anftei choir. Xhe fowlis song throw confort of the licht ; The birdis did with oppin vocis cry,
" 0, luvaris fo, away thou dully Nycht !
And welcum, Day, that confortis every wicht !
S s]n "auti'fui Baill Mav» haiN Fl°ra> hai11 Aurora schene3,
Haill princes Natur, haill Venus, luvis quene ! "
Dame Nature gaif ane inhibitiouu thair To ferss Neptunus and Eolus the bawld,
Nocht to perturb the wattir nor the air,
And that no schouris [snell] nor blastis cawld
4 earth. Effray suld flouris nor fowlis on the fold4.
5 also. Scho bad eik5 Juno, goddis of the sky,
That scho the hevin suld keip amene and dry.
Scho ordand eik that every bird and beist Befoir hir hienos suld annone coinpeir,
And every flour of vertew, most and leist, And every herb be feild fer and neir, As thay had wont in May fro yeir to yeir,
To hir thair niakar to mak obedie.ns,
Full law inclynnand with all dew reuerens.
THE THRISSIL AND THE ROIS. 173
With that annone scho send the swyft Ro
To bring in beistis of all conditioun ; The restles Suallow commandit scho also
To feche all fowll of small and greit renown ;
And to gar1 flouris compeir of all fassoun i cause.
Full craftely conjurit scho the Yarrow, Quhilk did furth swirk2 als swift as ony arroAv. 2<iart.
All present wer in twynkling of ane e,
Baith heist and bird and flour, befoir the quene.
And first the Lyone, gretast of degre,
Was callit thair; and he, most fair to sene3, 3 to see. With a full hardy contenance and kene,
Befoir dame Natur come, and did inclyne,
With visage bawld and curage leonyne.
This awfull beist full terrible wes of cheir,
Persing of luke, and stout of countenance, Rycht strong of corpis, of fassoun fair, but feir4, 4
Lusty of schaip, lycht of deliuerance5 ; 5 movement.
Reid of his cullour, as is the ruby glance, On feild of gold he stude full mychtely, With flour-de-lycis sirculit lustely.*
This Lady liftit vp his cluvis6 cleir, 6 claws.
And leit him listly7 lene vpone hir kne, 7 willingly.
And crownit him with dyademe full deir,
Off radyous stonis, most ryall for to se,
Saying, "The King of Beistis mak I the", And the cheif protector in woddis and schawis8 ; 8 coverts. Onto thi leigis go furth and keip the lawis. * A description of the royal arms of Scotland.
174
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
i imrt nor con
tamely.
"Exerce justice with mercy and conscience, And lat no small beist suffir skaith na skornis1
Of greit beistis that bene of moir piscence; 2 Make law alike. Do law elyk2 to aipis and vnicornis,
And lat no bowgle with his busteous hornis
The meik pluch-ox oppress, for all his pryd,
Bot in the yok go peciable him besyd."
Quhen this was said, with noyis and soun of joy, All kynd of beistis in-to thair degre,
At onis cryit lawd, "Viue le Roy!" And till his feit fell with humilite, And all thay maid him homege and fewte3 ;
And he did thame ressaif with princely laitis4,
Quhois noble yre is proceir prostratis5.
s fealty. 4 gestures.
prostrate."
6 qniiis.
7 parrots.
8 mighty.
Syne crownit scho the Egle King of Fowlis, And as steill dertis scherpit scho his pennis6,
And bawd him be als just to awppis and owlis, -^s vnto pacokkis, papingais7, or crennis, And mak a law for wycht8 fowlis and for wrennis ;
9 do affrighting. And lat no fowll of ravyne do efferay9, Nor devoir birdis bot his awin pray.
10 qualities.
ll^profct the
Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild, Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris10.
Vpone the awfull Thrissill scho beheld,
And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris ; Concedring him so able for the weiris,
A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif,
THE THRISSIL AND THE ROIS.
175
" And, sen1 thow art a king, them be discreit ; J since- Herb without vertew thou hald nocht of sic2 pryce 2 such.
As herb of vertew and of odor sueit ; And lat no nettill vyle and .full of vyce, Hir fallow3 to the gudly flour-de-lyce ; 3 fellow herself.
Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness,
Compair hir till the lilleis nobilness.
"Nor hald non vdir flour in sic denty4 4 m>uch regani.
As the fresche Rois, of cullour reid and quhyt;* For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty,
Conciddering that no flour is so perfyt,
So full of vertew, plesans, and delyt, So full of blisfull angeilik bewty, Imperiall birth, honour, and dignite."
Than to the Rois scho turnyt hir visage,
And said, " 0 lusty dochtir most benyng, Aboif the lilly illustare of lynnage,f
Fro the stok ryell rysing fresche and ying,
But ony spot or macull doing spring5; Cum, blowme of joy, with jemis to be cround, For our the laif6 thy bewty is renowned."
5 Springing without spot • or stain.
6 over the rest.
A coistly croun, with clarefeid stonis brycht, This cumly quene did on hir heid inclois,
Quhill all the land illumynit of the lycht ; Quhairfoir me-thocht all flouris did reiois, Crying attonis7, "Haill be thou, richest Rois! 7 at once.
Haill, hairbis empryce ! haill freschest queue of flouris !
To the be glory and honour at all houris ! "
* An allusion, as Laing pointed out, to the union of the Houses of York and Lancaster, the Red and White Roses, in the persons of Henry VII. and his queen.
t An allusion to the earlier effort to unite James IV. to a daughter of the House of Valois.
1 76
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
1 thrush.
2 i>eace.
Scry.
•4 partly in affright
5 l>erore.
Thane all the birdis song with voce on hicht, Quhois mirthfull soun wes mervelus to heir.
The mavyis1 song, " Haill, Hois most riche and richt, That dois vp flureiss vndir Phebus speir ! Haill, plant of yowth, haill, princes dochtir deir,
Haill, blosome, breking out of the blud royall,
Quhois pretius vertew is imperiall ! "
The merle scho sang, "Haill, Hois of most delyt, Haill, of all flouris quene and souerane ! "
The lark scho song, "Haill, Rois, both reid and
quhyt,
Most plesand flour, of michty cullouris twane ! " The nychtingaill song, "Haill, Naturis suffragane,
In bewty, nurtour, and every nobilness,
In riche array, renown and gentilness ! "
The commoun voce vp raise of birdis small, Apone this wyis, "0 blissit be the hour
That thow wes chosin to be our principall ! Welcome to be our princes of honour, Our perle, our plesans, and our paramour,
Our peax2, our play, our plane felicite,
Chryst the* conserf frome all aduersite ! "
Than all the birdis song with sic a schout, That I annone awoilk quhair that I lay,
And with a braid3 I turnyt me aboxit
To se this court; bot all were went away. Than vp I lenyt, halflingis in affrey4,
And thus I wret, as ye haiff hard to-forrowrj,
Off lusty May vpon the nynt morrow.
BEWTY AND THE PRESONEIR.*
SEN that I am a presoneir
Till hir that fairest is and best, I me commend, fra yeir till yeir,
In-till hir bandoun1 for to rest. i service.
I govit2 on that gudliest, 2 gazed esg
So lang to luk I tuk laseir,
Quhill I wes tane withouttin test3, 3 contest
And led furth as a presoneir.
Hir sweit having and fresche bewtie
Hes wondit me but4 swerd or lance, 4 without.
With hir to go commandit me
Ontill the castell of Pennance.
I said, " Is this your gouiruance, To tak men for thair hiking heir 1 "
Fresche Bewty said, "Ya, schir, perchance, Ye be my ladeis presoneir."
Thai had me bundin to the yet* '
Quhair Strangenes had bene portar ay,
And in deliuerit me thairat,
And in thir6 termis can thai say, 6 these
* Laing suggests that in this poem Dunbar may have done little more than delineate one of the pageants or masques of the period which he had witnessed while in England.
N II
WILLIAM D UNBAR.
l Give attention.
2 named.
3 disdain.
4 Though I was woful I dared not complain.
5 qualities (senses).
6 did I Bay.
"Do wait1, and lat him nocht away." Quo Strangnes vnto the porteir
"Ontill my lady, I dar lay, Ye be to pure a presoneir."
Thai kest me in a deip dungeoun,
And fetterit me but lok or cheyne. The capitane hecht2 Comparesone,
To luke on me he thocht greit deyne3.
Thocht I wes wo I durst nocht pleyne4, For he had fetterit mony affeir5 ;
Witli petouss voce thus cuth I sene° " Wo is a wo full presoneir ! "
7 watch.
8 jester.
9 bauble.
10 COMIC'S within bounds.
11 Hnwnigh (?)
12 vMcpc
13 writ*.
14 *\*?\ without <-<mil>aiiion.
16 secret words.
Langour wes weche7 vpoun the wall, That nevir sleipit, bot evir wouke ;
Scorne wes bourdour8 in the hall; And oft on me his babill9 schuke, Lukand with mony a dengerous luke ;
"Quhat is he yone, that methis10 ws neir? Ye be to townage11, be this buke,
To be my ladeis presoneir."
Gud Houp rownit12 in my eir,
And bad me baldlie breve13 a bill ; With Lawlines he suld it beir,
With Fair Scherwice send it liir till.
I wouk and wret hir all my will ; Fair Scherwice fur withouttin feir14,
Sayand till hir with wirdis still15, "Half pety of your presoneir!"
REWTY AND THE PRESONEIR.
179
Than Lawlines to Petie went,
And said till hir in termis scliort, " Lat we yone presoneir be schent1,
Will no man do to ws support ;
Gar2 lay ane sege vnto yone fort." Than Petie said, " I sail appeir ; "
Thocht sayis, " I hechte, com I ourthort3, I houp to lowss the presoneir."
Than to battell thai war arreyit all,
And ay the wawart4 kepit Thocht; Lust bur the benner to the wall,
And Bissines the grit gyn brocht5.
Skorne cryis out, sayis, " Wald ye ocht ? " Lust sayis, " We wald haif entre heir ; "
Comparisone sayis, "That is for nocht; Ye will nocht wyn the presoneir."
Thai thairin schup6 for to defend,
And thai thairfurth sailyeit7 ane hour ; Than Bissiness the grit gyn bend,
Straik doun the top of the foir tour.
Comparisone began to lour8, And cryit furth, " I yow requeir,
Soft and fair and do fawour, And tak to yow the presoneir."
Thai fyrit the yettis deliuerly9
With faggottis wer grit and huge ;
And Strangenes, quhair that he did ly Wes brint in-to the porter luge.
1 undone.
•2 Cause.
3 I promise, if I come over.
4 vanguard.
5 brought the great engine of war.
6 prepared.
7 assaili'il.
8 look gloomy.
9 gates speedily.
i8o
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
1 Such strokes and rustling were .astir.
2 Through Scorn's nose.
3 blacking.
4 buried alive.
5 host, lit. larxe number.
6 chamberlain.
Lustely they lakit bot a juge, Sic straikis and stychling wes on steir1,
The semeliest wes maid assege To quhome that he wes presoneir.
Thrucht Skornes nossa thai put a prik,
This he wes banist and gat a blek3 ; Comparisone wes erdit quik4,
And Langour lap and brak his nek.
Thai sailyeit fast, all the fek5 ; Lust chasit my ladeis chalmirleir6 ;
Gud Fame wes drownit in a sek. Thus ransonit thai the presoneir.
7 Prom the time when Slander heard.
8 (Jiithered to battle
9 cousin.
In gossip-
motwrs 11 conceals.
12 armed, with- out lying, i.e., in fact.
18 doubt, uncer- tainty.
Fra Sklandir hard" Lust had vndone
His enemeis, him aganis Assemblit8 ane semely sort full sone,
And raiss and rowttit all the planis.
His cusing9 in the court remanis, Bot jalouss folkis and geangleiris10
And fals Invy that no-thing lanis11 Blew out on Luvis presoneir.
Syne Matremony, that nobill king,
Was grevit, and gadderit ane grit ost, And all enermit, without lesing12,
Chest Sklander to the west se cost.
Than wes he and his linege lost, And Matremony, withouttin weir13,
The band of freindschip lies indost Betuix Bewty and the presoneir.
BEWTY AND THE PRESONEIR. 181
Be that of eild1 wes Gud Famiss air, i By that time
Good Fame's
And cumyne to continwatioun, heir was of a^e
And to the court maid his repair,
Quhair Matremony than woir the crownc. He gat ane confirmatioun
All that his modir aucht but weir2, 2 owned assur-
edly. And baid3 still, as it wes resone, 3 abode.
"With Bewty and the presoneir.
LONDON.*
LONDON, thou art of townes A per se !
Sovereign of cities, semeliest in sight, Of high renoun, riches, and royaltie ;
Of lordis, barons, and many goodly knight ;
Of most delectable lusty ladies bright ; Of famous prelatis in habitis clericall ;
Of merchauntis full of substaunce and myght : London, thou art the flour of cities all !
1 H- |te&
2 pleasant.
3 namH.
4 la I'oriMi-l.
5 Kiwi-.
Gladdith1 anon thou lusty- Troynovaunt,
City that some-tyme cleped3 was New Troy ;
In all the erth, imperial! as thou stant,
Pryncesse of townes, of pleasure, and of joy, A richer restith under no Christen roy ;
For manly power, with craftis natural!,
Fourmeth4 none fairer sithr> the flode of Noy.
London, thou art the flour of cities all !
* The spelling of this jxjein, it will be noticed, follows the English model of the time in several rcs]>ccts, a fact owed l>erhaps to the courtesy of the jKxst, ]>erhaps to the habit of the transcriber in the Cotton MS.
LONDON. 183
Gemme of all joy, jasper of jocunditie,
Most myghty carbuncle of vertue and valour, Strong Troy in vigour and in strenuytie1, 1 fortitude.
Of royall cities rose and geraflour2, 2 gillyflower.
Empresse of townes, exalt in honour, In beawtie beryng the crone imperiall,
Swete paradise precelling in pleasure, London, thow art the floure of cities all !
Aboue all ryuers thy Eyuer hath renowne,
Whose beryall3 stremys, pleasaunt and preclare4, 8beryi-
most famoiw.
Under the lusty wallis renneth down,
Where many a swanne doth swymme with wyngis
fare, Where many a barge doth saile and row with are5, 5 oar.
Where many a ship doth rest with toppe-royall. O towne of townes, patrone and not compare,
London, thou art the floure of cities all !
Upon thy lusty Brigge6 of pylers white c fair bridge.
Been merchauntis full royall to behold : Upon thy stretis goeth many a semely knyght
[All clad] in velvet gownes and cheynes of gold.
By Julyus Cesar thy Tour founded of old May be the hous of Mars victoryall,
Whos artillary with tonge may not be told. London, thou art the flour of cities all !
Strong be thy wallis that about thee standis;
Wise be the people that within thee dwellis ; Fresh is thy ryver with his lusty strandis ;
184 WILLIAM D UNBAR.
Blith be thy churches, wele sownyng be thy bellis ; Riclie be thy merchauntis in substaunce that
excellis ; Fair be their wives, right lovesom, white, and small ;
1 lovely. Clere1 be thy virgyns, lusty under kellis2.
2 c&ulSj cups.
London, thow art the flour of cities all !
Thy famous Maire* by pryncely governaunce With swerd of justice the rulith prudently. No lord of Parys, Venyce, or Floraunce
In dignytie or honoure goeth to hym nye. s guide. He is examplar, loode-ster, and guye3,
4 commendation. Principall ]>atrone and roose4 orygynalle,
Above all maires as maister moost worthy ; London, tliou art the flour of cities all !
* "Sir John Shaw, who was knighted on the field V>y Henry N\\."— Gregory Smith.
BE YE ANE LUVAE.
BE ye ane luvar, think ye nocht ye suld
Be weill adwysit in your gouerning? Be ye nocht sa it will on yow be tauld;
Bewar thairwith for dreid of misdemyng1. 1 evil report.
Be nocht a wreche, nor skerche2 in your spending, 2 * "Jring^' ° Be layth3 alway to do amiss or schame, 3 loath.
Be rewlit rycht and keip this doctring, Be secreit, trew, incressing of your name.
Be ye ane lear4, that is werst of all ;
Be ye ane tratlar5, that I hald als ewill ; Be ye ane janglar6 and ye fra vertew fall;
Be nevir-mair on-to thir vicis thrall.
Be now and ay the maistir of your will; Be nevir he that lesing" sail proclame ;
Be nocht of langage quhair ye suld be still ; Be secreit, trew, incressing of your name.
4 liar.
5 tattler.
6 wrangler.
falsehood.
Be nocht abasit for no wicket tung,
Be nocht sa set as I haif said yow heir : Be nocht sa lerge vnto thir saAvis sung8,
8 Be notsoliet-d- less to these sayings sung.
Be nocht our9 prowd, thinkand ye haif no peir. 9 Be not over.
Be ye so wyiss that vderis at yow leir10, Be nevir he to sklander nor defame ;
Be of your lufe no prechour as a freir ; Be secreit, trew, incressing of your name.
10 leam
TO A LADYE.
SWEIT roiss of vertew and of gentilnes, i beauty. Delytsum lyllie of everie lustynes1,
Richest in bontie, and in bewtie cleir, And everie vertew that is [held most] deir,
Except onlie that ye av mercyles.
2 garden.
3 attend.
4 src.
5 wholesome.
In-to your garthe2 tliis day I did persew3, Thair saw I flowris that f resche wer of hew ; Baith quhyte and reid moist lusty wer to seyne4, And halsum5 herbis vpone stalkis grene ; Yit leif nor flour fynd could I nane of rew.
I dout that Merche with his cauld blastis keyne Hes slane this gentill lierbe that I of mene ; i pain. Quhois petewous deithe dois to my hart sic pane6
That I wald mak to plant his rute agane, So comfortand his levis vnto me bene.
LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS QUHEN HE WES SEIK.
I THAT in heill1 wes and glaidnes 1 health.
Am trublit now with gret seiknes And feblit with infirmitie ;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.*
Our plesance heir is all vane glory,
This fals warld is bot transitory,
The flesche is brukle2, the Feynd is sle3 : 2 brittle, frail.
3 sly.
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
The stait of man dois change and vary, Now sound, now seik, now blyth, now sary4, 4 sorry. Now dansand mirry, now like to dee ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
No stait in erd5 heir standis sickir6 : 5 earth.
6 secure.
As with the wynd wavis the wickir7 rosier twig.
So wavis this warldis vanite ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
* The burden of this poem, " The fear of death troubles me," Laing points out, is borrowed from a poem by Lydgate, which begins "So as I lay the other night."
188 WILLIAM DUNBAR.
\ death. Onto the ded1 gois all estatis,
Princis, prelotis, and potestatis, Baith riche and pur of all degre ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He takis the knychtis in-to feild,
2 armed. Anarmit2 vnder helme and scheild ;
3 in ail contest. Wictonr he is at all melle3;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
That strang vnmercifull tyrand Takis on the moderis breist sowkaiul4 The bab full of benignite ;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
6 the champion in the storm (dust)ofbat,tl«.
He takis the campion in the stour\ The capitane closit in the tour, The lady in hour full of bevvte ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
6 i>ower.
He spairis no lord for his piscence0, Na clerk for his intelligence ; His awfull strak may no man fle; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
Art magicianis, and astrologgis, Rethoris, logicians, and theologgis, Thame helpis no conclusionis sle ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS. 189
In medecyne the most practicianis, Lechis, surrigianis, and 'phisicianis, Thame-self fra ded may not supple1 ; i succour,
defend.
limor Mortis conturbat me.
I see that makaris2 amang the laif3 2 poets.
Playis heir ther padyanis4, syne gois to graif5 ; 4 pageants. Sparit is nocht ther faculte6 ; 6 th*ir guild.
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He hes done petuously devour The noble Chaucer, of makaris flouir, The monk of Bery" and Grower all thre ; 7 i.e. Lydgate.
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
The gude Syr Hew of Eglintoun, Ettrik, Heryot, et Wyntoun He hes tane out of this cuntre ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
That scorpioun fell hes done infek8 8 has inhibited(?)
Maister lohne Clerk and James Afflek Fra balat making and trigide ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
Holland and Barbour he has berevit ; Allace, that he nought with ws lewit Schir Mungo Lokert of the Le ! Timor Mortis conturbat me.
190 WILLIAM DUNBAR.
Clerk of Tranent eik he has taue, i adventures. That maid the anteris1 of Gawane :
Schir Gilbert Hay endit has he ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
2 Alexander. He lias Blind Hary et Sandy2 Traill
Slaine with his schot of mortal 1 haill, Quhilk Patrik Johnistoun myght nought fle ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
3 writing.
4 lively.
5 high.
He lies reft Merseir his endite3, That did in luf so lifly4 write, So schort, so quyk, of sentence hie5; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He lies tane Roull of Aberdene, And gentill Roull of Corstorphin ; Two bettir fallowis did no man se ; • Timor Mortis conturbat me.
e whisp.-iv,i.
In Dunfermelyne he has done rovne"
With gud Maister Robert Henrisoun ;
Schir loline the Ros enbrast" lies liv. ;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
8 all.
And he has now tane, last of aw8, Gud gentill Stobo and Quintyne Schaw, Of quham all wichtis hes pete ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
LAMENT FOR THE MAKAKIS. 191
Gud Maister Walter Kennedy In poynt of dede lyis veraly; Gret reuth it wer that so suld be ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.
Sen he has all my brether tane
He will naught lat me lif alane ;
On forse I man1 his nyxt pray be ; a perforce i
* i J must.
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
Sen for the deid'2 remeid is non, 2 since for death.
Best is that we for deid dispone3, 3 dispose. Eftir our deid that lif may we ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.*
* It has been noted as curious that Dunbar in this Lament makes no mention of such well-known poets as Gavin Douglas, James I., and Thomas the Rhymer, unless indeed the last named be recognised under the cognomen of " Ettrik. "
1 Mahomet (the Devil).
2 accursed persons.
3 confessed.
4 the eve of Lent.
5 gallants pre-
parr a play.
6 gambol* (from /•'/ . .jumbe).
7 Proud.
8 haughty.
9 laughed.
10 Till.
11 gestures of derision.
THE DANCE OF THE SEVIN
DEIDLY SYNNIS.
OFF Februar the fyiftene nycht Full lang befoir the dayis lycht,
I lay in-till a trance ; And then I saw baith Hevin and Hell : Me-thocht amangis the feyndis fell
Mahoun1 gart cry ane dance Off schrewis2 that wer nevir schrevin8, Aganis the feist of Fasternis evin4
To male thair observance. He bad gallandis ga graith a gyiss5 And kast vp gamountis6 in the skyiss,
As varlotis does in France.
Heilie7 harlottis on hawtane8 wyiss Come in with mony sindrie gyiss,
Bot yit luche9 nevir Mahoun ; Quhill10 preistis come in with bair schevin nekkis, Than all the feyndis lewche and maid gekkis11,
Blak-Belly and Bawsy- Brown.*
* " Popular names of certain spirits. Bawsy-Broivn seems to be the English Robin Goodfellow, known in Scotland by the name of Brownie." — HAII,ES. These six lines in the MSS. are made to follow the next stanza, but Laing must be considered right in assigning them an earlier place as above.
THE SEVIN DEIDLY SYNNIS.
193
" Lat se," quod he, " Xow quha begynnis <\ " With that the fowll Sevin Deidly Synnis
Begowth to leip at anis1. And first of all in dance wes Pryd, With hair wyld bak and bonet on syd,
Lyk to mak vaistie wanis2 ; And round abowt him, as a quheill, Hang all in rumpillis3 to the heill
His kethat4 for the nanis5. Mony prowd trumpour6 with him trippit, Throw skaldand fyre ay as thay skippit
Thay gyrnd7 with hiddouss granis.
Than Yre come in with sturt8 and stryfe ; His hand wes ay vpoun his knyfe,
He brandeist lyk a beir : Bostaris, braggaris, and barganeris9 Eftir him passit, in-to pairis,
All bodin in feir of weir10, In iakkis11 and stryppis and bonettis of steill, Thair leggis wer chenyeit12 to the heill,
Ffrawart wes thair affeir13 : Sum vpoun vdir with brandis beft14, Sum jaggit15 vthiris to the heft
With knyvis that scherp cowd scheir.
Nixt in the dance followit Invy, Fild full of feid and fellony16,
Hid malyce and dispyte : Ffor pryvie hatrent that tratour trymlit. Him followit mony freik17 dissymlit,
With fenyeit wirdis18 quhyte ;
1 at once.
2 empty dwelling.
3 disordered
folds.
4 cassock.
5 nonce.
6 deceiver.
7 grinned.
8 disturbance.
9 quarrellers.
10 arrayed in feature of war.
11 jackets of
mail.
12 covered with chain-mail.
13 Rude was their bearing.
14 buffeted.
15 pricked.
10 feud and fierceness.
17 petulant folk.
18 feigned words.
194
WILLIAM D UNBAR.
1 lie.
whisperers of false lies.
3 usurers.
4 Misers,
hoarders, and gatherers.
5 wizard.
0 great quantity (properly 128 Ib. weight).
7 wildfire.
8 emptied.
9 all kinds of coinage.
10 grunting mouth.
11 Many lazy tnn-twllircl gluttons.
12 slothful idler.
13 drab.
14 solicitude.
15 loins.
1C apprehension.
And flattereris in-to menis facis, And bakbyttaris in secreit placis
To ley1 that had delyte; And rownaris of fals lesingis2 : Allace, that courtis of noble kingis
Of thame can nevir be quyte !
Nixt him in dans come Cuvatyce, Rute of all evill and grund of vyce,
That nevir cowd be content. Catyvis, wrechis, and okkeraris3, Hud-pykis, hurdaris, and gadderaris4
All with that warlo5 went. Out of thair throttis thay schot on vdder Hett moltin gold, me-thocht, a fudder0,
As fyreflawcht7 maist fervent: Ay as thay tomit8 thame of schot Ffeyndis h'ld thame new vp to the thrott
With gold of allkin prent9.
Syne Sweirnes, at the secound bidding, Come lyk a sow out of a midding,
Full slepy wes his grunyie10. Mony sweir bumbard-belly huddroun11, Mony slute daw12 and slepy duddroun18,
Him serwit ay with sounyie14. He drew thame furth in-till a chenyie, And Belliall with a brydill renyie
Evir lascht thame on the lunyie15. In dance thay war so slaw of feit Thay gaif thame in the fyre a heit
And maid thame quicker of counyie10.
THE SEV1N DEIDLY SYNNIS.
195
Than Lichery, that lathly corss, Come berand1 lyk ane bagit2 horss
And Ydilness did him leid. Thair wes with him ane vgly sort, Full mony stynkand fowll tramort3,
That had in syn bene deid. Quhen they wer entrit in the dance Thay wer full strenge of countenance
Lyk turkass4 birnand reid. All led thay vthir by the tersi*, Suppoiss thay fyleit5 with thair ersis,
It mycht be na remeid.
Than the fowll monstir Glutteny Off wameti vnsasiable and gredy
To dance he did him dress7. Him followit mony fowll drunckart With can and collep,8 cop and quart,
In surffett and excess. Full mony a waistless wallydrag9, With wamiss vnweildable, did furth wag
In creische10 that did incress. " Drynk ! " ay thay cryit, with mony a gaip ; The feyndis gaif thame hait leid to laip ;
Thair leweray11 wes na less.
Na menstrallis playit to thame but dowt12, Ffor gle-men13 thair wer haldin owt,
Be day and eik by nycht, Except a menstrall that slew a man, Swa till his heretage he wan,
Entering be brief of richt.
1 snorting.
2 baguette.
3 dead bodies.
4 torture- pincers.
5 Although they defiled.
6 belly.
7 address.
8 a drinking vessel.
9 lit. the weakest bird in a nest.
10 grease.
11 desire, reward.
12 without doubt.
13 musicians.
WILLIAM DUNBAK.
1 pageant.
3 heathenish crew ; a play here on the word Ptar- migan.
4 croak like raven and rook.
5 deafened.
tf smotheml.
Than cryd Mahoun for a Heleand padyane1 ; Syne ran a feynd to feche Makfadyane
Ffar north wart in a nuke. Be he the correnoch had done schout2 Erschemen so gadderit him abowt
In Hell grit rowme thay tuke. Thae tarmegantis3 with tag and tatter Ffull lowde in Ersche begowth to clatter,
And rowp lyk revin and ruke4. The Devill sa devit5 wes with thair yell That in the depest pot of Hell
He smorit6 thame with smvke.*
* A curious light is thrown by this satiric stanza upon the ancient antipathy of the Lowland Scots for the Highlanders. The antipathy appeal's to have been mutual.
AMENDIS TO THE TELYOURIS AND SOWTAKIS.
BETUIX twell houris and ellevin I dremed ane angell cam fra Hevin, With pleasand stevin1 sayand on hie " Telyouris and Sowtaris2, blist be ye !
"In Hevin hie ordand is your place Aboif all sanctis in grit solace Nixt God, grittest in dignitie : Tailyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye !
" The causs to yow is riocht vnkend3, That God mismakkis ye do amend Be craft and grit agilitie : Tailyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye !
"Sowtaris with schone weill-maid and meit Ye mend the faltis of ill-maid feit; Quhairfoir to Hevin your saulis will fle : Telyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye !
" Is nocht in all this fair a flyrok4 That lies vpoun his feit a wyrok5, Knowll tais, nor mowlis in no degrie6, Bot ye can hyd thame : blist be ye !
1 sound, voice.
2 Tailors and shoemakers.
3 unknown.
4 deformtM person.
5 a ooin or bony excrescence.
6 Toes swollen at the joints, or chilblains to any extent.
1 98
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
1 clothes.
2 misfashioned.
3 than three such.
4 what matter. 6 cunning.
6 crookeilnrss and lameness.
7 help.
S In earth ye
show MIlCll.
9 Though.
" And ye tally ouris with well-maid clais1 Can mend the werst-maid man that gais, And mak him semely for to se : Telyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye !
" Thocht God mak ane misfassonit'2 man, Ye can him all schaip new agane And fassoun him bettir be sic thre8 : Telyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye !
"Thocht a man haif a brokin bak Half he a gude crafty tailyour, quhatt rak4 ? That can it cuver with craftis slie5 : Telyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye !
" Off God grit kyndness may ye clame, That helpis his peple fra cruke and lame6, Supportand faltis with your supple7 : Tailyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye !
"In erd ye kyth sic8 mirakillis heir, In Hevin ye sal be sanctis full cleir, Thocht9 ye be knavis in this cuntre : Telyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye ! "
THE FENYEIT FREIR OF TUNGLAND.
As yung Awrora with cristall haile In Orient schew hir visage paile As sweuyng swyth did me assaile1
Off sonis of Sathanis seid ; Me-thocht a Turk of Tartary Come throw the boundis of Barbary And lay forloppin2 in Lumbardy
Ffull lang in waithman weid3.
Ffra baptasing for to eschew4 Thair a religious man he slew, And cled him in his habit new ;
Ffor he cowth wryte and reid. Quhen kend5 was his dissimvlance And all his cursit govirnance6 Ffor feir he fled and come in France,
With littill of Lumbard leid7.
1 A vision sud- denly came upon me.
2 fugitive.
3 in wanderer's dress.
4 To avoid bap- tism.
5 known.
6 conduct
7 language, lore.
To be a leiche he fenyt8 him thair, Quhilk mony a man micht rew evir-mair, For he left nowthir seik nor sair Vnslane or he hyne yeid9.
8 To be a physi- cian he feigned.
9 ere he thence went.
200
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
\ i.e. ho oii veins.
2 stroke.
3 died.
Vane organis he full clenely carvit1, Quhen of his straik2 so mony starvit8, Dreid he had gottin that he desarvit He fled away gud speid.
4 proving.
5 As apothecary he did great hurt.
6 .juggler.
7 ingenuity.
8 begot of giants.
In Scotland than, the narrest way, Tie come his cunnyng till assay ; To sum man thair it was no play
The preving4 of his sciens. In pottingry lie wrocht grit pyne5, He murdreist mony in medecyne : The jow6 was of a grit engyne",
And generit was of gyans8.
S>i.«. fora night's attendance.
10 means, re- sources.
1 I instruments.
12 rafter.
13 cabinet, <7» /•{/<• de viandf.
1 4 To ciinsc a strong how
IOM,
K> WMt.
If, baiter, gallows.
In leichecraft he was homecyd ; He wald haif, for a nicht to byd9, A haiknay and the hurt inanis hyd,
So meikle he was of myance10. His yrnis11 was rude as ony rawchtir12, Quhair he leit blude it was no lawchtir ; Full mony instrument for slawchtir
Was in his gardevyance18.
He cowth gif cure for laxatyve
To gar a wicht horss want14 his lyve ;
<\>nha-evir assay wald, man or wyve,
Thair hippis yeid10 hiddy-giddy. Hir practikis nevir war put to preif But suddane deid or grit mischief ; He had purgatioun to mak a tlicif
To dee withowt a widdy16.
THE FEN YE IT FREIR.
Vnto no mess pressit this prelat
For sound of sacring1 bell nor skellat2 ;
As blak-smith bruikit was his pallat3
Ffor battering at the study4. Thocht he come hame a new-maid channoun He had dispensit with matynnis channoun ; On him come nowthir stole nor fannoun5
For smowking of the smydy.
Me-thocht seir fassonis he assailyeit6 To mak the quintessance, and failyeit ; And, quhen he saw that nocht availyeit,
A fedrem7 on he tuke, And schupe8 in Turky for to fle. And quhen that he did niont on he All fowlis ferleit9 quhat he sowld be
That evir did on him luke.
1 holy.
2 small bell or crier's rattle.
3 begrimed was his poll.
4 anvil.
5 scarf on left arm of a priest at mass.
6 many methods he tried.
7 feathering.
8 prepared.
y marvelled.
Sum held he had bene Dedalus, Sum the Mynataur mervalus, Sum the Martis smyth Wlcanus, And sum Saturnus kuke.
And evir the cuschettis10 at him tuggit, 10 wood pigeons.
The rukis him rent, the ravynis him druggit11, u dragged. The hudit crawis his hair furth raggit12, 12 tore.
The hevin he micht not bruke13. is enjoy.
The myttane14 and Sanct Martynis fowle15 Wend16 he had bene the hornit howle ; Thay set avpone him with a yowle17, And gaif him dynt for dynt.
14 a hawk.
15 the mart-'ii.
16 Deemed.
1" scream.
202
WILLIAM DUN BAR.
1 Cuekoo, cormo- rant, and hawk.
2 a hawk.
3 in each car.
4 magpie.
5 tear.
<5 without stop.
7 claws. S possess. 9 in a j,Tusp.
The golk, the gormaw, and the gled1 Beft him with buffettis quhill he bled; The spar-halk to the spring him sped, Als fere as fyre of flynt.
The tarsall2 gaif him tug for tug,
A stanchell hang in ilka lug3,
The pyot4 furth his pennis did rug5,
Thi stork straik ay but stynt6. The bissart, bissy but rebuik, Scho was so cleverus of hir clvik7 His bawis he micht not langer bruik8
Scho held thame at ane hint9.
10 jackdaws.
11 two kinds of hawk.
12 iiu'wg.
13 mail.! attack.
15 uproar.
16 mock i-d with a KCf'-Hi.
IT at its
18 reached. 10 Muw.
20 unwittingly In1 l«'t rayed IiiniKelf."
•Jl drenched.
22 oxen all
Thik was the clud of kayis10 and crawis, Of marleyonis, mittanis11, and of mawis12, That bikkrit13 at his herd with blawis
In battell him abowt. Thay nybillit14 him with noyis and cry, The rerd15 of thame raiss to the sky, And evir he cryit on Fortoun, Fy !
His lyfe was in-to dowt.
The ja him skrippit with a skryke10, And skornit him as it was lyk17; The egill strong at him did stryke,
And rawcht18 him mony a rowt19. Ffor feir vncunnandly lie cawkit20, ((Hihill all his pennis war drownd and drawkit21 He maid a hundreth nolt all hawkit22
Beneth him with a spowt.
THE FENYEIT FREIR.
203
He schewre1 his feddreme that was schene2, And slippit owt of it full clene, And in a myre vp to the ene
Amang the glar3 did glyd. The fowlis all at the fedrem dang4 As at a monster thame amang, Quhill all the pennis of it owtsprang
In-till the air full wyde.
And he lay at the plunge evir-mair
Sa lang as any ravin did rair5 ;
The crawis him socht with cryis of cair
In every schaw6 besyde. Had he reveiled bene to the rwikis", Thay had him revin all with thair clwikis8, Thre dayis in dub amang the dukis9
He did with dirt him hyde.
The air was dirkit10 with the fowlis
1 sheared, cut.
2 beautiful.
3 mud.
4 struck.
5 make noise.
6 covert.
7 rooks.
8 claws.
9 in gutter among the ducks.
10 darkened. rrn i -.-i • 11 -i .,i T 10 11 clamourings.
IBM come with yawmeris11 and with yowlislj, 12 8ere.inig With skryking13, skrimming14, and with scowlis, is screeching.
14 shrieking.
To tak him in the tyde,
I walknit15 with the noyis and schowte, iswak.-m-d.
So hiddowis beir16 was me abowte. 16 noise of flight.
Sen-syne17 I curss that cankerit18 rowte 17 Sine.' then.
18 ill-tempered.
Quhair-evir I go or ryde.
1 Solicitors.
THE LADYLS SOLISTARIS.1
2 Theso.
3 known.
4 troublo.
5 ^irlltlf.
• keep tact
7 concern.
8 know.
10 solicit.
11 whit.
THIRS ladyis fair that makis repair
And in the court ar kend8, Thre dayis thair thay will do mair
Ane mater for till end Than thair gud men will do in ten
For ony craft thay can ; So weill thay ken quhat tyme and quhen
Thair menes thay sowld mak than.
With littill noy4 thay can convoy
Ane mater fynaly, Richt myld and moy5, and keip it coy
On evyns quyetly. Thay do no miss, hot gif thay kiss
Ami keipis collatioun0, Quhat rek7 of this ? Thair mater is
Brocht to conclusioun.
Ye may wit8 weill, thay liaif grit feill1'
Ane mater to solist10 ; Traist as the steill, syne nevir a deill11 thay cum hame is mist.
THE LADY IS SO LIST A R IS.
205
Thir lairdis ar, methink, richt far
Sic ladeis behaldin to, That sa weill dar go to the bar
Quhen thair is ocht ado1.
Thairfoir I reid2, gif ye half pleid3
Or mater in-to pley4, To mak remeid5 send in your steid
Your ladeis grathit6 vp gay. Thay can defend, evin to the end,
Ane mater furth express ; Suppois7 thay spend, it is vnkend,
Thair geir8 is nocht the les.
In quyet place, and thay haif space,
Within less nor twa houris Thay can, percaice9, purchess sum grace
At the compositouris. Thair compositioun, without suspitioun,
Thair fynaly is endit ; With expeditioun and full remissioun
And seillis thairto appendit.
Alhaill10 almoist thay mak the coist
With sobir recompens Richt littill loist, thay get indoist11
Alhaill thair evidens. Sic ladyis wyiss, thay ar to pryis12,
To say the veretie ; Swa can devyiss13, and nane suppryiss
Thame nor thair honestie.
1 aught astir.
2 counsel.
3 pleading.
4 in plea.
5 remedy. (3 clad.
7 Although.
8 substance.
9 perchance.
10 All whole.
11 indorsed.
12 praisf.
13 That can so contrive.
DISCRETIOUN IN ASKING.
OFF every asking followis uocht Rewaird, but gif sum caus be wrocht,
And quhair causs is men weill ma sie, And quhair nane is it wil be thocht
In asking sowld discretioun be.
Ane fule, thocht1 he haif causs or nane 2o^Ititiont>re Cryis ay "Gif me," in-to a drene2 ;
And he that drones ay as ane bee Sowld haif ane heirar dull as stane :
In asking sowld discretioun be.
Sum askis mair than he deservis; 3»erv««for. Sum askis far les than he servis3;
4 u of my sort. Sum schames to ask and breidis of me4,
5 dies. And all withowt reward he stervis5 :
In asking sowld discretioun be.
6 without. To ask but0 seruice hurtis gud fame ;
To ask for seruice is not to blame ;
To serve and leif in beggartie To man and maistir is baith scharae :
In asking sowld discretioun be.
DISCRETIOUN IN ASKING.
2Q-,
He that dois all his best servyiss
May spill it all with crakkis1 and cryis
Be fowll inoportunitie, Few wordis may suffice to the wyis :
In asking sowld discretioun be.
Nocht neidfull is men sowld be duni ; Na-thing is gottin but wordis sum.
Nocht sped but diligence we se ; For na-thing it allane will cum :
In asking sowld discretioun be.
Asking wald haif convenient place, Convenient tyme, lasar, and space,
But haist or preiss of grit meiiyie2, But hairt abasit, but toung rekless :
In asking s-iwld discretioun be.
Sum micht haif Ye, with littill cure3, That hes oft Nay, with grit labour;
All for his tyme nocht byd4 can he He tynis5 baith eirand and honour :
In asking sowld discretioun be.
Suppois the servand be lang vnquit6 The lord sumtyme rewaird will it.
Gife he dois not, quhat remedy ? To flyte" with fortoun is no wii :
In asking sowld discretioun be.
1 boastings.
2 effect of great force.
3 Yea, with little care.
4 abide, wait.
5 loses.
6 unrequited.
7 scold.
1 Now when lovi-rs come with «ilts oj)cnly.
2 fillies will be
decked and clothed.
3 commonality.
4 Yule jade.
5 condition.
6 gambol a. 1 outside.
8 crop gniss.
9 To coal -heavers
tli'-n must.
10 are scabbed, crookwl, and rheumous.
1 1 Though.
12 placed.
13 housing.
14 covered.
THE PETITION OF THE GRAY HORSE, AULD DUNBAK
Now lufferis cummis with largess lowd1 Quhy soukl not palfrayis tliane be prowd, Quhen gillettis \vil be schomd and schroud2 That ridden ar baith with lord and lawd3? Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald4 !
Quhen I was young and into ply5, And wald cast gammaldis0 to the sky, [ had beine bocht in realmes by7, Had I consentit to be sauld.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald !
With gentill horss quhen I wald knyp8 Thane is thair laid on me ane quhip ; To colleveris than man9 I skip That scabbit ar, hes cruik and cald10. Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald !
Thocht11 in the stall I be nocht clappit12 As cursouris that in silk beine trappit, With ane new houss13 I wald be happit14
THE GRA Y HORSE.
209
Aganis this Crysthinmes for the cald. Schir, lett it nevir in town be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald !
Suppois1 I war ane aid yaid aver2, Schott furth our clewch3 to pull the claver4, And had the strenth of all Stranaver, I wald at Youll be housit and staid. Schir, latt it nevir in touii be tald That I suld be ane Yuillis yald !
I am ane auld horss, as ye knaw, That evir in duill dois drug5 and draw ; Great court horss puttis me fra the stawc To fang the fog be firthe and fald7.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald !
I haif run lang furth in the feild
On pastouris that ar plane and peild8 ;
I mycht be now tein in for eild9 ;
My beikis ar spruning he10 and bauld. Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald !
My mane is turned in-to quhyt, And thairof ye haff all the wyt11 ; Quhen uther horss had bran to byt I gat bot griss cnype12 gif I wald.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald. P 11
1 Although.
2 old spent horse.
3 ravine, rough ground.
4 clover.
5 in sorrow does drag.
6 from the stall.
7 To bita the moss by out- field and in- field.
8 stripped.
9 taken in for age.
10 My corner teeth are pro- jecting high.
11 blame.
12 but grass t . crop.
210
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
1 doti-'l on.
2 For ill-shorn straw that I woul<l tear.
3 savings, goods.
4 possession.
5 shoemakers.
6 gnawed by
ugly ^'ums.
7 over-ridden
mule.
8 trappings.
9 joint, lit. shoulder-blade.
I was nevir dautit1 into stabell; My lyf lies bene so miserable My hyd to offer I am [bot] abill For evill schom strae that I reive wald2. Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald !
And yitt, suppois my thrift3 be thyne, Gif that I die your aucht4 within Latt nevir the soutteris5 have rny skin With uglie gumes to be gnawin6.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald !
The court hes done my curage cuill, And maid me ane forriddin muill7 ; Yett, to weir trappouris8 at this Yuill, I wald be spurrit at everie spald9.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald !
RESPONSIO REGIS.
10 treasurer. Eftir our wrettingis, thesaurer10,
Tak in this gray horss, Auld Dunbar,
n Which. Quhilk11 in my aucht with schervice trew
12 grey. In lyart12 changeit is in hew.
Gar howss him now aganis this Yuill,
is deck. And busk13 him lyk ane beschopis muill ;
For with my hand I have indost To pay quhat-euir his trappouris cost.
BEST TO BE BLYTH.
FULL oft I muse and hes in thocht How this fals warld is ay on flocht1,
Quhair no-thing ferme is nor degest2 ; And quhen I haif my mynd all socht,
For to be blyth me-think it best.
This warld evir dois flicht and wary3 ; Ffortoun sa fast hir quheill dois cary,
Na tyme in turning can it tak rest: For quhois fals change suld none be sary4 ;
Ffor to be blyth me-think it best.
Wald men considdir in mynd richt weill, Or5 Fortoun on him turn hir qiiheill,
That erdly honour may nocht lest, His fall less panefull he suld feill :
For to be blyth me-think it best.
Quha with this warld dois warsill and stryfe", And dois his dayis in dolour dryfe,
Thocht" he in lordschip be possest, He levis bot ane wretchit lyfe :
For to be blyth me-think it best.
1 on wing.
2 composed.
3 flit and vary.
4 sorry.
6 En>.
strive.
212
WILLIAM DUNBAR.
1 fruit.
2 without.
3 loss.
4 Sine.-.
5 long ago.
6 tumult.
Off warldis gud and grit richess Quhat fruct1 hes man but miriness?
Thocht he this warld had eist and west All wer pouertie but'2 glaidness ;
For to be blyth me-think it best.
Quho suld for tynsall3 drowp or de For thyng that is bot vanitie,
Sen4 to the lyfe that evir dois lest Heir is bot twynklyng of ane ee;
For to be blyth me-think it best.
Had I for warldis vnkyndness In hairt tane ony haviness,
Or fro my plesans bene opprest, I had bene deid langsyne5, dowtless :
For to be blyth me-think it best.
How-evir this warld do change and vary Lat ws in hairt nevir-moir be sary,
Bot evir be reddy and addivst To pass out of this frawdfull fary°;
For to be blyth me-think it best.
MEDITATIOUN IN WYNTIR.
IN-TO thir dirk and drublie dayis1 Quhone2 sabill all the hewin arrayis
With mystie vapouris, cluddis, and skyis,
Nature all curage me denyis Of sangis, ballattis, and of playis.
Quhen that the nycht dois lenthin houris, With wind, with haill, and havy schouris, My dule3 spreit dois lurk forschoir4, My hairt for languor dois forloir5 For laik of symmer with his flouris.
I walk6, I turne, sleip can I nocht,
I vexit am with havy thocht; This warld all ouir I cast about, And euer the inair I am in dout,
The mair that I remeid have socht.
I am assay it on everie syde Dispair sayis ay, " In tyme prowyde, And get sum-thing quhairon to leif, Or with grit trouble and mischeif Thou sail in-to this court abyde."
Than Patience sayis, " Be nocht agast ;
Hald Hoip and Treuthe within the fast, And lat Fortoun wirk furthe hir rage, Quhen that no rasoun may assuage,
Quhill that hir glas be run and past."
1 these dark and troubled days.
2 When.
3 doleful.
4 dejected.
5 become useless.
> wake.
2I4
WILLIAM DUNRAR.
\ that which will
away. 2 that which
them mayest
in no wise
have.
3 Presently.
4 j;ates.
:> These open await you, lit. shall you endure.
6 stoop.
i-li.-st.
|irr\cnt.
:> sliortrn.
And Prudence in my eir sayis ay, " Quhy wald tliou hald that will away1 ? Or craif that them may have no space,-, Thow tending to ane-uther place, A journay going everie day ] "
And than sayis Age, " My freind, cum neir, And be nocht strange, I the* requeir ! Cum, brodir, by the hand me tak, Remember thou hes compt to mak Off all thi tyme thow spendit heir."
Syne3 Deid castis up his yettis4 wyd, Saying, " Thir oppin sail ye abyd5.
Albeid that thow were never sa stout, Vndir this lyntall sail thow lowt" ; Thair is nane vther way besyd."
For feir of this all day I drowp : No gold in kist7, nor wyne in cowp, No ladeis bewtie, nor luiitis blys May lat8 me to remember this, How glaid that ever I dyne or sow p.
Yit, quhone the nycht bogynnis to schort9 It dois my spreit sum part confort
Off thocht oppressit with the schouris.
Cum, lustie symmer ! with thy flouris, That I may leif in sum disport.
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
ON the eve of the great battle of Flodden, in which the flower of Scottish chivalry was fated to fall, when James IV., notwithstanding the urgent entreaty of his council and the obvious melting of his troops, had declared his resolve to fight, the last noble to urge prudence upon the king was the aged Earl of Angus. His years and his great services, apart from the wisdom of his words, entitled him to be heard ; but James, as headstrong as he was gallant, merely turned upon him with a word of scorn : "Angus, if you are afraid, you may go home." Full of sorrow and foreboding, it will be remembered, the earl rode from the camp that night, but, loyal to the crown despite the insult he had received, he left his two eldest sons behind, and in the dire disaster which ensued, both of these, George, Master of Angus, and Sir William Douglas of Glenbervie, perished, along with two hundred others of the Douglas name.
This earl, fifth in succession from the first Earl Douglas of Angus and the youngest daughter of King Robert III., was Archibald, surnamed "Bell the Cat" from a famous historic incident of the
2i8 GA V1N DOUGLAS.
days of James III., but generally styled the Great Earl of Angus. His wife was Elizabeth, daughter of Robert, Lord Boyd, Lord High Chamberlain of Scotland, and by her he had four sons, the third of whom was Gavin Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld.
These antecedents, together with some knowledge of the feudal clan spirit of the times, throw a necessary light upon the character and career of a man who, while possessing the noble temper and ardent genius of a poet, had to sustain the difficult part of a high ecclesiastic of those days, and the obligations of the scion of a great ruling house.
Tantallon castle, whose ruins frown yet out upon the Bass ; Douglas castle, the cradle of his race, among the Lanark hills ; Dudhope near Dundee, or Abernethy in Strathearn — any of these may have been the birth- place of the poet, for all of them were residences of the Earls of Angus. The date of his birth, from his own words before the Lords of Council in 1515, was at the end of 1474 or beginning of 1475. From 1489 to 1494 he studied at St. Andrews, his name appearing upon the registers among the Licentiati or Master of Arts in the latter year ; and it is probable that he afterwards spent some time at scats of learning abroad, though the statement* that "there is undoubted proof that his education was finished at the University of Paris" still lacks corro- bo ration.
His later career affords a striking contrast to that of his contemporary Dunbar. It is as if the fortunes * Walton's History of Enylish Poetry, vol. iii. p. 3.
GA VIN DOUGLAS. 2 1 9
of the rival houses of March and Douglas had been fated to find illustration in the lives of their respective poet-descendants. Hardly had Douglas reached his majority in 1496 when the king conferred upon him the teinds of Monymusk in Aberdeenshire. This was followed two years later by a presentation to the parsonage of Glenquhorn when it should become vacant by the resignation of Sir Alexander Symson. He was also, probably through the interest of his mother's family, made parson of Linton and rector of Hauch, now Prestonkirk, near Dunbar. It was while engaged in his pastoral duties there that he composed his first allegorical poem, " The Palice of Honour," and Mr. Laing has suggested with much probability that this production, dedicated as it was to James IV., induced the king to confer upon Douglas his next and more important step in church preferment. At any- rate, about 1501, the year in which "The Palice of Honour" was finished, the poet, while allowed to retain his former benefice, was appointed Dean or Provost of the Collegiate Church of St. Giles in Edinburgh. '• This church, which was on a more extensive scale than any other of the kind in the country, except the Chapel-Royal at Stirling, supported a provost, a curate, sixteen prebendaries, and seven other offices, on the original foundation, to which was superadded a vast number of altars and chaplainries, some of them richly endowed."* Douglas's position as head of this foundation was one not only of ample emolument but of considerable consequence. * Works of Gavin Douglas, ed. John Small, M.A., p. 7.
220 GA VIN DOUGLAS.
He is known from existing documents to have been conscientious in celebration of the religious services of the cathedral ; his presence is recorded at meetings of- the Lords of Council ; in Septem- ber, 1512, he was one of the great assize which passed an act anent " the resset of Kebellis, and Personis being at our souerane Lordis home"; and he is supposed to have even visited Rome for the furtherance of certain interest at the papal court. Of more importance at the present day, however, was another of his occupations. Sometime during the early years of his Provostship of St. Giles, Douglas, it is believed, composed his allegory " King Hart," and made his translation of Ovid's " Art of Love." The latter performance has unfortunately been lost, but there can be no doubt that the effort prepared the way for the production of his greatest work. In January, 1512, he began his translation of Virgil, an arduous but apparently congenial task, and the speed at which he wrote may be judged from the fact that he finished it in July of the following year, two months before the national disaster which was to be the crisis of his own fortunes, the red field of Flodden.
It has already been mentioned that the two eldest brothers of the poet fell with their king on that fatal field. Upon hearing this dark news, the old earl, their father, retired to St. Mains, a religious house in Galloway, where he died of grief in the beginning of 1514.
This treble loss in his family, following the great
GA VI N DOUGLAS. 22 1
disaster to the country, was pregnant of stirring con- sequences to Gavin Douglas. At one blow it put an end to his poetical efforts, and cast him into the whirl of political affairs. In the queen's first great personal distress at the loss of her husband the Provost of St. Giles had been appointed, with one or two other Lords of Council, to wait daily upon her for purposes of consolation and advice ; and on the 30th of September, his father being then Provost of Edinburgh, Douglas was made a free burgess of the city " communi bono ville."
It has been concluded that this latter honour may have been conferred out of compliment to the Earl of Angus, or on account of the poet's own literary fame. But in the circumstances of the time it seems more probable that the freedom was conferred as stated " for the town's common good " — as a further means of attaching the personal and family interest of Douglas to the city. From this it would appear that already the Provost of St. Giles was recognized as exerting an influence worth propitiating in matters of state. An impending event, however, was to place Douglas's influence above all question.
Upon the death of the old lord, the earldom of Angus was inherited by Archibald, the son of the poet's eldest brother, a young nobleman as remarkable for his personal comeliness as for his ambition and feudal power. The new earl speedily attracted the attention of the youthful queen, who encouraged his addresses, and finally, only eleven months after Flodden, on the pretext that the support of the power-
222 GA VIN DOUGLAS.
fill Douglas clan was needed by the throne, gave him her hand in the church of Kinnoull.*
It is to be expected that, for feudal reasons, if from no more personal motives, the poet did all in his power to further his nephew's marriage, and this fact may account, to some extent at least, for the confidence and favour bestowed upon him from the first by the queen. As early as June 1514, she nominated him Abbot of Aberbrothock, the most valuable of the Scottish abbacies, and in September of that year, a month after her marriage, she commissioned him to act as her representative with plenary powers before the Lords of Council.
But trouble was already in the air, and the high hopes of the house of Douglas were fated to bring more than disappointment upon the poet. The hasty and ill-managed marriage of Queen Margaret to so powerful a noble as Angus had at once excited the alarm of the Scottish peers. " It was investing the house of Douglas with almost royal dignity, and the experience of the last hundred years had shown only too well how insolent, daring, and ambitious that house could be." That this apprehension was not altogether unfounded may be gathered from one fact. James Beaton, Archbishop of Glasgow and Chancellor of Scotland, having spoken strongly against the royal marriage, was seized by Angus at Perth and forced to
* Mr. Small, in an interesting note, draws attention to the fact that the present Royal Family of Great Britain derives its descent from this marriage, the issue of the union, Lady Margaret Douglas, born in 1515, having "married Matthew, fourth Earl of Lennox, whose son, Lord Darnlcy, husband of Queen Mary, was father of James VI."
GAVIN DOUGLAS. 223
surrender the Great Seal, which was then handed to the keeping of Gavin Douglas. For some months thereafter, though the Lords of Council immediately ordered him to restore the sign of authority, the poet appears to have held the office, or at least the title, of Chancellor. The popular feeling of the time is indicated by the statement in a contem- porary diary that " all the court was rewlit by the Erie of Angus, Mr. Gawin Dowglass, and the Drummonds,* but nocht weill." Moved by their apprehensions, the Lords declared that by her marriage the queen had forfeited the guardianship of her son James V. ; and they determined to recall the Duke of Albany, grand- son of James II. and cousin of James IV., from France to the regency of Scotland.
Meanwhile, the archbishopric of St. Andrews having become opportunely vacant, the queen had nominated Gavin Douglas to the primacy, recommending him to Pope Leo the Tenth as second to none in learning and virtue. But the canons, partaking the spirit of the times, elected John Hepburn, their prior, to the see, and the latter, laying siege to the archiepiscopal castle, expelled the retainers of Douglas, who had taken possession. Nor did the Earl of Angus, with a succour of two hundred horse, manage to reinstate his uncle. Hepburn was in turn ousted by Andrew Foreman, Bishop of Moray, who had obtained the papal bulls for his own appointment, and by bestowing the priory of Coldingham on the brother of Lord Hume, had prevailed upon that nobleman to support him with
* The mother of Angus was a daughter of Lord Drummond.
224 GA VIN DOUGLAS.
ten thousand men-at-arms. Douglas, however, actuated by a spirit of decency which appears to have been rare in his time, withdrew from the disgraceful rivalry. His moderation, nevertheless, seemed likely to go without reward, for the abbacy of Aberbrothock, which he had considered secure, was confirmed to his rival, Archbishop Beaton.
Even this was not the last of the poet's troubles just then. In January, 1515, the bishopric of Dunkeld became vacant. Once more the queen named Douglas for preferment; and in this case, by the aid, it is supposed, of her brother Henry VIII., obtained the papal confirmation of her choice. But the Earl of Athole had induced the canons to postulate his brother, Andrew Stewart, and, the Duke of Albany having now arrived from France, Douglas was sum- moned before the Lords of Council, found guilty of negotiating for benefices at the papal court, and forth- with consigned to prison. The offence with which he was charged was one forbidden by several old Scottish statutes, and the revival of these now sufficiently served Albany's purpose, which was to weaken the queen's party by removing from it one of its most able adherents. For more than twelve months Douglas was confined under charge of his former rival, Hepburn, in the castles of St. Andrews, Dunbar, and Edinburgh, and from some of his letters extant, he appears to have chafed considerably at his imprisonment. The indignity was also deeply felt by his friends. Fortune however, turned presently with a suddenness charac- teristic of the times. The imprisonment of so noble a
GA VIN DOUGLAS. 225
prelate brought about a certain revulsion of popular feeling in the country. The Pontiff was not slow to threaten with excommunication the troublers of his bishop, and Albany began to fear that, for his severity in this and other matters, he might have to reckon with the queen's brother, Henry VIII. Douglas was accordingly released from imprisonment, reseated as a lord of council, consecrated, first by Archbishop Beaton at Glasgow, and afterwards by the primate, Foreman, at St. Andrews,* and assisted to wrest his episcopal palace from Stewart by force of arms.
The poet was now deeply loaded with debt, but he set about the discharge of his duties to his bishopric and the state with diligence and success. He finished the bridge at Dunkeld begun by his predecessor, Bishop Brown; and in May, 1517, he was one of the three ambassadors to France whose mission resulted in the memorable treaty of Rouen.
So important was this treaty, which bound Scotland and France in a league of mutual defence against England, that the vacillating Albany, heartily sick of the troubles of his regency, made the signing of it an excuse for visiting his vast estates on the Continent. His absence was the signal for immediate anarchy at home. The Archbishops of St. Andrews and
* In 1489, when James IV., in one of his accesses of religious feeling, had caused himself to be enrolled as a canon of Glasgow cathedral, an Act of the Scottish Parliament had erected Glasgow into an archbishopric, with the Bishops of Dunkeld, Dunblane, Galloway, and Argyle as suffragans, and the Act had been confirmed by a Bull of Pope Innocent VIII. But the measure had been strongly opposed by Foreman, and he refused to recognise the consecration of Douglas of Glasgow.
Q II
226 GAVIN DOUGLAS.
Glasgow, and the Earls of Arrau, Angus, Argyle, and Huntly had been named as a commission of regency, but the power of Angus so overshadowed the others that in 1520 a conspiracy was formed by them to seize him in Edinburgh. The chief of this conspiracy was James Hamilton, Earl of Arran, and he and the chiefs of his faction met in the house of Archbishop Beaton at the foot of Blackfriars Wynd, to arrange the execution of their plot. On the opposite side of the same street stood the palace of the bishops of Dunkeld, and while the conspirators were still deliberating, Douglas was announced. Beaton received his suffragan apart, when the latter tendered an offer from his nephew to retire with his friends from the city if allowed to do so in safety. After urging the keeping of the peace, Douglas reminded the archbishop that it was his duty as a churchman to preserve order. Mediation, however, was vain. The Hamiltons, being the more numerous party, felt sure of their object ; and accordingly Beaton made excuses to Douglas, and, protesting that he was ignorant of Arran's intentions, ended his dis- avowal with the words, " Upon my conscience, I cannot help what is about to happen." As he spoke the archbishop solemnly laid his hand upon his heart, when Douglas heard the clink of mail under the priestly vestment. " My lord," he exclaimed indignantly, " I perceive your conscience is not good, for I hear it clattering " (Anylice, telling tales). And immediately betaking himself to his nephew, he bade him defend himself like a man. " As for me,"
GA VIN DOUGLAS. 227
he said, " I will go to my chamber and pray for you." Angus at once took possession of the High Street, which could then be approached only by steep narrow closes on each side ; and when the Hamiltons pre- sently rushed to the attack they found themselves overborne in these narrow entries by the long lances of their opponents. The result was a complete victory for the party of Angus, seventy of the Hamiltons being left dead on the street; and while Home of Wedderburn, coming with eight hundred borderers to assist Angus, burst with sledge-hammers through one of the city gates, Arran and his son fled out of another upon a coal-horse from which they had thrown the load. Archbishop Beaton himself, who had taken an active part in the fight, was pursued to the high altar of the Church of the Blackfriars, and was on the point of being slain, the rochet being torn from his back, when he was saved by the interposition of Gavin Douglas.
For many years this fight was remembered in Edin- burgh by the significant name of Clean-the-Causeway.
Had Angus, now at the summit of power, been as true to the queen as Gavin Douglas had proved true to him the rest of the poet's days might have been spent in the honourable administration of his diocese. But when Margaret returned from her brother's court, whither she had fled to escape the severity of Albany, she had grave charges to bring against her husband. Not only had he forsaken her when she lay ill with typhus at Morpeth, but he had appropriated her Ettrick forest rents, worth 4000 merks yearly, and
228 GA VIN DOUGLAS.
worst of all, he had been guilty of abducting Lady Jane Stuart, a daughter of the house of Traquair, •whom he was keeping at Douglas Castle. The queen's love for her husband was now changed into hate, she meditated a divorce, and in November* 1521, she procured the return of Albany with a strong French armament and ample munitions of war. Before this display of force Angus fled to the Kirk of Steyll, now Ladykirk, in Berwickshire, and despatched Bishop Douglas to the English court with counter charges of infidelity against Margaret.
The effort to enlist Henry's interest against his sister entirely failed, and in turn Douglas had the mortifica- tion to learn that the Regent had deprived him of his bishopric and other benefices. But the keenest stroke was to come when he heard that Angus, his stronghold of Tantallon having been seized by Albany, had for- saken his own cause, and was treating with the Regent for pardon and permission to retire to France.
It is not too much to say that this final blow, striking his most vital sense, the honour of the house of Douglas, broke the poet's heart. A last letter exists written by him from a London inn to Cardinal Wolsey, which reveals his anguish of mind. He writes of himself as a " desolatt and wofull wycht," and refers to " thair ontreuth that causit me labour for the wele of thair Prince, and thair securite, quhilk now has wrocht thair avne confusioun and perpetual! schayme." For some months he remained in London, on intimate terms with Wolsey and Wolsey's friend, 1'olydore Virgil the historian. Had he lived he might still, despite the intrigues of his rival Beaton,
GA VI N DOUGLAS. 229
have re-entered Scotland as Archbishop of St. Andrews ; for the primacy presently became vacant by the death of Foreman, and Angus soon returned to the north with greater influence than ever. But the plague struck him down. He died in September, 1522, at the house of his friend Lord Dacre, and was buried by his own desire in the Hospital Church of the Savoy, by the side of the Bishop of Leighlin.
Of the facts of Douglas's life it is somewhat difficult now to judge, so wide is the difference between the habit of thought of his time and ours. Dr. Merry Ross has blamed the poet for his constant efforts to promote the interests of his family, but the censure seems hardly just. It is never a difficult task to take exception, and it seems only fair to remark of Douglas that while his faults were those of the best men of his time, his virtues were many and were exceptional. In each of his high offices he is known to have scrupulously fulfilled his duty, and the fact remains that with many opportunities of enriching himself, he died poor. The picture of him given, with the in- tuition of genius, by Sir Walter Scott in " Marmion," seems the fittest and truest.
A bishop by the altar stood,
A noble lord of Douglas blood, With mitre sheen, and rocquet white ;
Yet showed his meek and thoughtful eye
But little pride of prelacy ;
More pleased that, in a barbarous age,
He gave rude Scotland Virgil's page. Than that beneath his rule he held The bishopric of fair Dunkeld.*
* Canto vi., st. 11.
230 GA VIN DOUGLAS.
Of Douglas's longest original work, "The Palice of Honour," no manuscript is known to exist. The earliest texts are an edition printed in London about 1553 by William Copland, and an Edinburgh edi- tion of 1579. The latter was reprinted at Perth in 1787, and by Pinkerton in 1792, before its repro- duction in facsimile by the Bannatyne Club in 1827. The poem of "King Hart" and some verses by Douglas on " Conscience " are contained in the Mait- land MS. (1555-1585) in the Pepysian Library at Cambridge, and the former was printed by Pinkerton in his Ancient Scottish Poems in 1786. No fewer than five MSS. of the translation of the &neid have come down to modern times. Of these, one in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge, written about 1525, claims to be the "first correck coppy nixt eftir the Translatioun wryttin be Master Matho Geddes " the Bishop's chaplain, and it has some marginal notes in Douglas's own writing. The Elphynstoun MS., used by Mr. Small, and the Ruthven MS., which belonged to the ill-fated Earl of Gowrie, are in the University Library, Edinburgh. There is a manuscript at Lam- beth Palace, and one is preserved in the library of the Marquis of Bath at Longleate, Wilts. The first printed edition was a mutilated one by William Copland in 1553; there was the famous Edinburgh folio edited by Thomas Ruddiman in 1710; and in 1839, upon the basis of the Cambridge MS., was produced the sumptuous edition of the Bannatyne Club. The first complete edition of the poet's works, in four volumes, was edited in an entirely
GAVIN DOUGLAS. 231
satisfactory manner by Mr. John Small, M.A., in 1874.
" The Palice of Honour " is an allegorical composi- tion in the fashion of Douglas's time, a Gothic struc- ture, as Dr. Irving says, in which " ancient and modern usages, classical and Christian subjects, are almost constantly blended together, and a nymph of Calliope's train expounds the scheme of human redemption." The poet in a garden, of a May morning, falls into a swoon and sees pass him in succession the courts of Minerva, Diana, and Yenus. Venus has him seized and is about to condemn him for contumely, when the court of the Muses arrives, and upon Calliope's inter- cession and bis own composition of a lay in praise of the goddess of love he is set free. In the Muses' train he visits the Castalian fount, hears recited the long roll of the deeds of ancient heroes, and at last reaches the mountain on whose summit glitters the magic palace. Close to the summit he finds his path crossed by a fearful ditch, deep as Hell, wherein, amid boiling pitch, brimstone and lead, welter those wretches who have been tempted from pursuit of honour by pleasure and sloth. Carried across by his guardian nymph, he is shown a vision first of the storm-tossed world, then of the wonderful Palace of Honour, and again, in Venus' mirror, the most remarkable actions recorded in history. The inhabitants of the Palace are next passed in review — those who during their lives have followed the laws of truth, fidelity, and valour. The nymph then conducts him to a delightful and wonderful garden, but in attempting to gain access by
232 GAVIN DOUGLAS.
the bridge of a single tree, he falls into the moat and awakes. The composition is in a strictly conventional vein, hardly ever rising above the level of laboured prose, thoiigh the verse is full of sweetness, with an occasional vigorous touch, and there is throughout an exuberant if somewhat diffuse richness of detail. It must remain chiefly remarkable as proof of the wide classical learning of its author. There seems ample room for the belief, moreover, that Bunyan got from the " Palice of Honour " a large part of the suggestion of his Pilgrim's Progress.
"King Hart," though in the same conventional vein of allegory, exhibits riper powers than Douglas's •earlier work. So vivid, indeed, sometimes become the circumstances and characters that the reader forgets the allegory, and catches fire at the story itself. The narrative is full of action, the personifications are natural and real as life, and the plot has strong human interest, while the allegory is original, consistent throughout, and forcible. In all respects this must be reckoned a greater performance than its more famous sister piece. As a study of the growth and decline of an emotion it will, behind its archaic method, bear comparison with some of the best analytical novel-writing of the present day.
But the work to which Douglas must owe his enduring fame is his latest and longest, the translation of Virgil's jEneid. Here he was away from the fatal atmosphere of convention ; the nature of the task set a bound to his discursive bend ; and amid the variety of the great epic he struck at last upon the true
GA VIN D 0 UGLAS. 233
medium for his genius. His was the earliest metrical translation of a classic into the English or Scottish language, and its appearance, marking the dawn of the Kenaissance in the north, gave the first sign that the middle ages were past. From the intrinsic beauty and worth of the performance, notwithstanding the antique language in which it appears, this must con- tinue to rank among the greatest translations of the Augustan poet. It is true that here and there Douglas reads certain anachronisms into the classic, the Sybil becomes a nun, ^Eneas a "gentle baron," and so on, while at times, in portraits of men and women and in descriptions of nature, he is tempted to add deft touches of his own ; but the work is that of one who knew the original language thoroughly, and who brought to its rendering an ample and richly varied phraseology of his own. Douglas's ^Eneid was the first work which carried Scottish literary influence to the south of the Tweed, and its immediate result was the Earl of Surrey's translation of the second and fourth books of the ^Eneid into English. It is a testimony to the excellence of the Scottish poet's work that Surrey embodied in his version many expressions and even whole lines of the northern translator.
To each of the twelve books of the sEneid, and to the additional book by Mapheus Vegius of the fifteenth century, which he included, Douglas wrote an appro- priate prologue, and it is in these prologues that his finest work is seen. Here the Scottish genius for natural description appears. The colour, says Mr. Stopford Brooke, is superb, while of the landscape
234 GA VIN DOUGLAS.
of the 'poet he adds, " there is nothing like it in England till Thomson's Seasons, and Thomson was a Scotchman." Mr. Small, drawing attention to " the dreary picture of winter in the seventh prologue, the glowing description of May in the twelfth, and the beauties of an evening in June in the thirteenth," gives it as his opinion that in these are to be found "descriptive passages equal, if not superior, to any which exist in the whole range of Scottish poetry." Here are lively touches of fancy, and rural imagery homely and real, and here, at his truest and best, Douglas touches home to the heart of poetry when he speaks with his own lips of the things that his own eyes saw.
The translation was made by Douglas at the request of his cousin Lord Sinclair, and at its conclu- sion he bade farewell to poetry —
And will direct my labours euermoir Vnto the common welth and Goddis gloir.
What he might have done in the nine remaining years of his life, had his resolution and his fortunes been different, it is idle to imagine. What he has done assures him, if not, indeed, a " monument more lasting than brass," at least a laurel that will live as long as the great deeds which have given lustre to the Douglas name. In "The Court of Venus," written about 1560, Holland describes him —
Bischope and als ane honest Oratour, Profound Poet and perfite Philosophour ; Into his days abone all buir the bell, In sic practikis all vtheris did precell.
HONOUR.
ballad," curious for its plethora of rhymes, with which " The Police of Honour " concludes.
HIE Honour ! sweit heuinlie flour, degest1, i grave. Gem verteous, maist precious, gudliest ;
For hie renoun thou art guerdoun conding2, 2 condign, at. Of worschip kend3 the glorious end and rest, But4 quhome in richt na worthie wicht may lest. Thy greit puissance may maist auance all thing, And powerall to mekill auaill5 sone bring, I the requeir, sen thow but peir art best,
That efter this in thy hie blis we ring6. 6 reign.
8 Of worth ascer- tained.
4 Without.
5 poor folk to much conse- quence.
Of grace thy face in euerie place sa schynis That sweit all spreit baith heid and feit inclynis
Thy gloir afoir for till imploir remeid. He docht7 richt nocht, quhilk8 out of thocht the* tynis9 ! \ &^s' Thy name but blame, and royal fame, cliuine is ;
Thow port, at schort10, of our comfort and reid11 }? gj^, short Till bring all thing till glaiding efter deid; w diminishes,
All wicht but sicht of thy greit micht ay crynis12, shnnks.
J & ' 13 shining one.
0 schene13! I mene14 nane may sustene thy feid15. 14 bemoan.
15 feud.
236 GA VIN DOUGLAS.
Haill, rois maist chois til clois thy fois greit micht ! Haill, stone quhilk schone vpon the throne of licht ! Vertew, quhais trew sweit dew ouirthrew al vice, '^acifdaT Was ay ilk day gar* say the way of licht, Amend, offend, and send our end ay richt !
Thow stant, ordant as sanct, of grant maist wise fdegreeU,rprize. Til1 be supplie2, and the hie gre3 of price.
4 E8Xwn dto 'wipe DC11*® th^ tite me quite of site to
"hame!tof For * aPPty schortlie to thy deuise.
KING HART.
[King Hart, personifying the heart of man, is represented in the pride of youth, guarded in his seemly castle by the five senses, and attended by a court of youthful qualities, such as Strength and Wantonness.]
KING HART into his cumlie castell strang
Closit about with craft and meikill vre1, i much labour.
So semlie wes he set his folk amang
That he no dout had of misaventure ;
So proudlie wes he polist, plane and pure, With youthheid and his lustie levis grene,
So fair, so fresche, so liklie to endure, And als so blyth as bird in symmer schene.
For wes he never yit with schouris schot2,
, Nor yet ourrun with rouk3 or ony rayne : In all his lusty lecam4 nocht ane spot,
Na never had experience into payne ;
Bot alway into lyking, nocht to layne5, Onlie to love and verrie gentilnes
He wes inclynit cleinlie to remane And wonn6 vnder the wyng of Wantownness.
[Close by stands the delightful palace of Dame Pleasance, and one day surrounded by her handmaids, Beauty, Kindness, Mirth, and others, she appears with all her forces near the castle of King Hart. Alarm is brought by the watchmen to the hall where the king is sitting, whereupon]
2 with .sorrows
assailed. 8 over-run with
moisture. 4 his fair boiiy.
5 in pleasure, to say truth, lit, not to lie.
6 dwell.
238
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
i hooked. Youthheid vpstart and cleikit1 on his cloik,
2brokiered. Was browdin2 all with lustie levis grene;
8 soak, rest. " Ryse, Fresche Delyte ! lat nocht this mater soke3 ;
We will go se quhat may this muster mene. 4 share. So weill we sail ws it cop£4 betwene,
Thair sail nothing pas away vnspyit;
6 Aftenvards. Syn5 sail we tell tlie king as we have sene,
And thar sail nothing trewlie be denyit."
Youthheid furth past, and raid on Innocence, Ane mylk-quhyt steid that ambilit as the wynd ;
And Fresche Delyt raid on Benevolence,
0 abide. Throw-out the meid that wald nocht byd6 behind.
The bemes bricht almost had maid thame blind
That fra fresche Bewtie spred vnder the cloude.
7 made way. To hir thay socht7, and sone thai culd hir find;
No saw thai nane never wes half sa proude.
The bernis8 both wes basit of the sicht, And out of mesour marrit in thair mude9 :
8 barons.
9 marred in
mood, dis- concerted.
10 on white As spreitles folkis on blonkis hvffit on hicht10
steeds paused on high.
11 went.
Both in ane studie starand still thai stude.
Fayr-Calling freschlie on hir wayis yuid11 And both thair reynyeis cleikit in hir handis, i2iiui(i. Syn to hir castell raid as echo war woude12,
And festnit vp thir folkis in Venus' bandis.
[Other messengers whom the kiug sends out are captured in turn, and at last he himself, exasperated, issues forth to fight. Pleasance then arranges her troops in order of battle, and, defeating and wounding the king, casts him into a dungeon in her palace. Here his malady is made worse by the fact that from his dungeon he can see and hear the mirth in the queen's hall. Meanwhile Jealousy and Prodigality are his attendants.]
KING HART. 239
Discretioun wes as than hot young of age,
He sleipit with Lust quhair-euer he micht him find :
And he agane wes crabbit at the page. Ane ladill full of luif, stude him behind, He swakit in his ene1 and maid him blinde. i dashed into his
eyes.
[Business, Noble Bearing, and Disport strive to make interest with Dame Pleasance, but, laughing, she bids them attend their master. Presently, however, the imprisoned courtiers of King Hart make fatal interest with one of the queen's handmaids.]
This wourthy King in presoun thus culd ly
With all his folk, and culd thair nane out brek.
Full oft thai kan vpone Dame Pietie cry,
" Fair thing ! cum doun a quhyle and with ws speik. Cum ! farar2 way ye micht your harmes wreik3
Than thus to murdour ws that yoldin ar.
Wald ye ws rew, quhair-euir we micht our reik4 4 reach over,
attain to.
We suld men be to yow for euirmare."
Than answert Danger and said, "That were grete doute,
A madin sweit amang sa mony men To cum alane, but5 folk war hir about ; 5 unless.
That is ane craft myself culd never ken6." a a trick i could
never take
With that scho ran vnto the Lady kene7 ; cognizance of.
7 intrepid.
Kneland, " Madame," scho said, " keip Pietie fast !
Sythen8 scho ask, no licence to her len9. 8 Although.
J 9 lend.
May scho wyn10 out scho will play yow a cast11." lOget.
11 trick. [Alas ! then came a night when Danger slept.]
The dure on chare it stude ; all wes on sleip ;
And Pietie doun the stair full sone is past. This Bissines hes sene, and gave gud keip12; 12 heed.
Dame Pietie hes he hint13 in armeis fast. is seized.
240
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
He callit on Lust, and he come at the last ; i caused. His bandis gart1 he birst in peces smale :
Dame Pietie wes gritlie feirit and agast. Be that wes Confort croppin in our the wall.
[King Hart and his court, set free, proceed to storm the palace, and at last the queen, reduced to straits, throws herself upon his courtesy.]
So sweit ane swell as straik vnto his hart
Quhen that he saw Dame Plesance at his will.
" I yeild me, schir ! and do me nocht2 to smart ! " The fayr Quene said vpone this wyss him till. " I sauf youris, suppois it be no skill3.
3 I saved your (life), though
With all my hairt I offer heir yow till, And askis nocht bot ye be trew till me."
4 ere ever h<- stretched.
Till that [quhilk] Loue, Desyre, and Lust devysit Thus faire Dame Plesance sweitlie can assent.
Than suddandlie Schir Hart him now disgysit, On gat his amouris clok or euer he stent4. Freschlie to feist thir amouris folk ar went.
5 as messenger. Blythnes wes first brocht bodwarde5 to the hall :
Dame Chastite, that selie innocent,
6 went mad, and For wo yeid wode, and flaw out our6 the Avail.
flew out over.
The lustie Queue, scho sat in middes the deiss ; Befoir hir stude the nobill wourthy King.
7 messes. Servit thai war of mony diuerss meiss7,
9 ^ickiy! Full sawris8 sweit and swyth9 thai culd thame bring.
KING HART. 241
Thus thai maid ane [richt] mirrie marschalling ; Bewtie and Loue ane hait burde1 hes begun; i a iiot tussle.
In wirschip of that lustie feist so ding2 2 worthy.
Dame Plesance has gart perce Dame Venus' tun.
[The second canto paints a sadder picture. Seven years of wedded bliss have flown, 'when one morning a stranger, Age, knocks at the gate.]
At morrowing tyde, quhen at3 the sone so schene4
Out raschit5 had his bemis frome the sky, 5 dashed.
Ane auld gude-man befoir the yet6 was sene, egate.
Apone ane steid that raid full easalie. He rappit at the yet, but courtaslie,
•\r-i- -i i-u -A J A- 1 7 the doiijon-
Yit at the straik the grit dungeoun can din' ; tower
_. , resounded.
Syne at the last he schowted fellonlie8, 8 violently.
And bad thame rys, and said he wald cum in.
Sone Wantownnes come to the wall abone9, 9 above.
And cryit our10, " Quhat folk are ye thair out ? " 10 over. " My name is Age," said he agaue full sone,
" May thow nocht heir 1 Langar how I culd schout ! "
" What war your will ? " "I will come in, but dout." " Now God forbid ! In fayth ye cum nocht heir !
Ein on thy way, [or] thow sail beir ane route11, 11 blow. And say the portar he is wonder sweir12." laotatinate, ««.
[At this news the courtiers begin to take flight. Youthheid is the first to go; and here, says Merry Ross, "even allegory cannot chill the tenderness of the king's farewell. "]
" Sen thou man pas13, fair Youthheid, wa is me ! ^j^go*0" Thow wes my freynd, and maid me gude seruice.
Fra thow be went never so blyth to be
I mak ane vow, [aljthocht that it be nyce14. n foolish.
242
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
\ prize.
2 reward.
3 ere thou t;o
4 with skill.
5 desire.
6 t;ike.
Of all blythnes thy bodie beiris the pryce1. To warisoun2 I gif the", or thow ga3,
This fresche visar, wes payntit at devyce4. My lust5 alway Avith the se that thow ta°.
"For saik of the I will no 'colour reid Nor lusty quhyte vpone my bodie beir, 7 till. Bot blak and gray; alway, quhill" I be deid,
I will none vther wantoun wedis weir.
8 hurt. Fayr-weill, my freynd ! Thow did me never deir.8
Vnwelcum Age, thow come agane my will !
I lat the" wit I micht the weill forbeir. ment, i.e. in- Thy warisoun suld be [richt] small but skill V
QCCU.
[After Age enter Conscience, Reason, and Wit. Reason removes the film from the eyes of Discretion, and reads aloud the conditions of his own service.]
10 hurt thee aught.
11 snare.
12 makes. 18chil«lren.
Ressoun rais vp, and in his rollis he brocht.
" Gif I sail say, the sentence sail be plane ; Do never the thing that ever may scayth the* ocht10 ;
Keip mesour and trouth, for thairin lyes na trayne11.
Discretioun suld ay with King Hart remane. Thir vthir young folk-seruandis ar hot fulis.
Experience mais12 Knawlege now agane, And barnis13 young suld lerne at auld mennis sculis.
14 taste*. l.r> seasoning.
16 outoiile under
the lu"lgp.
"Quha gustis14 sweit, and feld nevir of the sowre, Quhat can [he] say? How may he seasoun15 juge?
Quha sittis hate, and feld nevir cauld ane hour, Quhat wedder is thairout vnder the luge16
KING HART. 243
How suld he wit1 1 That war ane mervale huge ! i know. To by richt blew2, that nevir ane hew had sene ! 2 To buy true
blue.
Ane servand be, that nevir had sene ane fuge 3 ! 3 bundle. Suppois it ryme it accordis nocht all clene.
"To wiss4 the richt and to disvse the wrang, 4 understand.
That is my scule to all that list to leyr5." s that choose to
learn.
[But as the lighter courtiers, Strength, Worth in War, and the rest, depart, Dame Pleasance herself grows cold to the king, his caresses become irksome, and at last she bids him farewell. Then King Hart returns to his own castle, kept by Heaviness. Here, before long, he is besieged by the forces of Decrepitude, led by Headache, Cough, and Palsy ; and finally, being mortally wounded, he prepares for death by making his will and testament. ]
DIDO'S HUNTING PARTY.
1 The great worth many times.
2 imprinted.
3 might.
From the Fourth Book of the
BE this the queyn with havy thochtis onsound In every vane nurisis the greyn wound. Smyttin so deip with the blynd fyre of lufe, Hir trublit mynd gan fro all rest remufe. Compasing the gret prowes of Enee, The large wirschip feill syse1 remembris sche Of his lynage and folkis; for ay present Deip in hir breist so wes his figur prent2 And all his wordis fixt, that, for besy thocht, None eis hir membris nor quyete suffir mocht3.
4-Knea.s. Sum-tyme the quene Enee4 with hir did leid
6 place, steading. Throw-out the wallis onto euery steid6, The tresour all and riches of Sydony Schawing to him; and offerit all reddy The cetie of Cartage at his commandment. Begyn scho wald to tell furth hir intent, And in the myd word stop and hald hir still And quhen the evin coyme it wes hir will e erstwhile. To seik wayis hym to feist, as sche did air0, And, half myndles, agane sche langis sair
DIDO'S HUNTING PARTY.
245
1 gaze.
2 the bright stars.
For tyll inquyre and heir the sege of Troy, And in a stair1 behaldis hym for joy. Eftir all wes voydit, and the lycht of day Ay mair and mair the mone quenchit away, And the declyning of the sternis brycht2 To sleip and rest perswadis euery wycht, Within her chalmer allane scho langia sair, And thocht all waist for lak of hir lufair. Amyd ane woid bed scho hir laid adoun, And of him absent thinkis scho heris the soun3 ; His voce scho heris, and him behaldis sche, Thocht4 he, God wait, fer from her presence be. And sum-tyme wald scho Ascanius, the page, Caucht5 in the figur of his faderis ymage And in hir bosum brace, gif scho tharby The luif vntellable mycht swyk6 or satisfy. The werk and wallis begovn ar nocht upbrocht; The younkeris deidis of armes exercis nocht;
„ 7 Neither.
Nodir' fortreis nor turratis suir of weir8 8 sure turrets of
war.
Now graith9 thai mair ; for all the werk, but weir, 9 prepare. Cessis and is stoppit, baith of pynnakles hye And byg towris, semyt to ryse in the skye.*
Furth of the see, with this, the dawing springis. As Phebus rais, fast to the yettis thringis10 The chois galandis, the huntmen thaim besyde With ralis and with nettis strang and wyde And hunting speris stif with hedis braid.
* Each book of the ^Eneid was divided by Douglas into chapters, and the two passages above, descriptive of Dido's sion, are included from the first and second chapters of Book
3 sound.
4 Though.
5 Catch.
6 assuage.
10 eagerly to the tiates throng.
5iasf V.
as introducing the incidents of the hunt in chapter four.
246
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
From Massylyne horsmen thik thiddir raid, With rynning hundis, a full huge sort, 8t the Noblis of Cartage, hovand at the port1,
The quene awatis that lang in chalmer dwellis. Hir fers steid stude stamping, reddy ellis, Rungeand2 the fomy goldin bitt jingling, Of goldin pall wrocht his riche harnissing. And scho, at last, of palice ischit out, With huge menze3 walking hir about; Lappit in ane brusit4 mantill of Sydony, With gold and perle the bordotir all bewry5, Hingand by hir syde the cais° with arrowis ground; Hir brycht tressis envolupit war and wound Intill a kuafe" of fyne gold wyrin threid ; s purple attire. The goldin buttoun claspit hir purpour weid8. And furth scho passit with all hir company.
2 champing.
s company.
4 embroidered.
5 twisted. «i quiver.
- coif, hood.
The Troiane peple forgadderit9 by and by Joly and glaid the fresche Ascanius ying ; Bot first of all, most gudlie, hym-self, thar king Enee, gan entir in falloschip, but dout10, And vnto thaim adionyt11 his large rowt. Lyk quhen Apollo list depart or ga Furth of his wintring realm of Lisia And leif the flude Exanthus for a quhile, To vesy12 Delos his moderis land and ile, Renewand ringis and dancis, mony a rowt, Mixt togiddir, his altaris standing abowt, The peple of Crete and thaim of Driopes And eik the payntit folkis Agathirces, is guise, manner. Schowtand on ther gise13 with clamour and vocis hie,
'"doubt"1 11 joined.
12 visit.
DIDO'S HUNTING PARTY. 247
Apon thi top, Mont Cynthus, walkis he,
His wavand haris, sum-tyme, doing down thring1 1 tiironj,'i>i«
down.
With a soft garland of lawrere2 sweit smelling, 2 laurel.
And wmquhile3 thaim gan balmyng and anoynt s formerly.
And into gold addres at full gude poynt4 ; 4 in good order. His grundin dartis clattering by his syde,
Als fresch, als lusty5 did Eneas ryde, 5 desirable. With als gret bewtie in his lordlie face.
And eftir thai ar cumin to the chace, Amang the montanis in the wild forrest, The ryning hundis of cuplis sone thai kest,
A j .LI i • i 1 1 i it • i i p« 6 over the dells
And our the clewis and the holms belyf6 and the woods
The wild bestis dovn to the daill thai drive.
Lo, ther the rais7, rynning swyft as fyre,
Drevin from the hychtis8 brekkis out at the swyre9.
Ane-vther part, syne10 yonder mycht thow see 10 presently.
The hirdis of hartis, with ther heidis hie,
Ourspynnerand11 with swyft cours the plane vaill, n fleeting over.
The hepe of dust wpstouring12 at thair taill, laupstorming.
Fleand the hundis, leiffand the hie montanis.
And Ascanyus, the child, amyde the planis,
Joyus and blyth, his stertling13 steid to assay, is restless.
Now makkis his renk14 yondir, and now this way, i* course.
Now prekis furth by thir and now by thaim15, "tKJJ8*6 "nd
Langing, amang faynt frayit16 beistis vntame, 10 affrighted.
The fomy bair doun from the hillis hycht,
Or the dun lyon discend recontir he mycht.
In the meyn-quhile the hevinnis all about
With fellon noyis gan to rummyll and rowt17 ; IT roar.
24 8
GA VIN DOUGLAS,
\ blast.
2 mixed.
3 scatters far and near.
4 places.
J> corners and
shelters. 6 suddenly.
7 marriage- goddesg.
8 the air showed knowledge.
9 lightning.
10 without lies, in truth.
11 named.
12 fashion.
13 calls.
A bub1 of weddir followit in the taill,
Thik schour of rane myddillit'2 full of haill.
The Tyrian menye skalis wydequhair3
And all the galandis of Troy fled heir and thair,
And eik with thaim the yong Ascanius,
Nevo to King Dardane and to Venus.
For feir to diuers stedis4 throw the feildis
Thai seik to haldis, housis, hirnis, and beildis5.
The riveris rudlie ruscliit our hillis bedene6.
Within a cave is enterit Dido queyn,
And eik the Troiane duke, all thaim allane,
By aventure as thai eschewit the rane.
Erth, the first modir, maid a takin of wo,
And eik of wedlok the pronuba" Juno,
And of thair cupling wittering schew the air8;
The flamb of fyreflaucht9 lychtnyt heir and thar,
And on the hillis hie toppes, but les10,
Sat murnyng nymphis, hait11 Oreades.
This was the foremast day of hir glaidnes
And first morow of hir wofull distres ;
For nother the fassoun1'2 nor the maner sche
Attendis now, nor fame, ne honestie,
Nor from thens-furthwart Dido ony moir
Musis on luif, secret, as of befoir,
Bot clepis13 it spousage, and with that fair name
Clokit and hyd hir cryme of oppyne scharae.
WINTER.
Prologue to the Seventh Book of the
As brycht Phebus, schene souerane1, hevynnis e,
The opposit held of his chyinmis hie2,
Cleir schynand bemys, and golden symmeris hew,
In lattoun3 colour altering haill4 of new,
Kithing no syng5 of heyt be his visage,
So neir approchit he his wynter staige;
Redy he was to entir the thrid morne
In cloudy skyis vndir Capricorne.
All-thocht6 he be the hart and lamp of hevin
Forfeblit wolx his lemand giltly lewyne7
Throw the declyning of his large round speir.
The frosty regioun ringis8 of the yeir,
The tyme and sessoune bitter cald and paill,
Thai schort days that clerkis clepe brumaill.
Quhem brym9 blastis of the northyne art10
Ourquhelmit had Neptunus in his cart,
And all to schaik the levis of the treis,
The rageand storm ourwalterand wally seis11,
Reveris ran reid on spait12 with watteir broune,
And burnis hurlis all thair bankis downe,
And landbrist rumland rudely wyth sic beir13,
1 shining sover- eign.
2 mansions high.
3 mixed metal, prob. brass.
4 wholly.
5 Showing no sign.
0 Although.
7 Very feeble waxed his glowing gilded levin.
8 reigns.
si tierce.
10 direction.
11 over-riding wavy seas.
12 flood.
13 breakers rum- bling with such noise.
250
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
\ dolphins (si-;i-
swine) or
whales. 2 send down.
3 Untoward.
4 the degrees of his ascent.
5 spoiled.
6 soaked in water moist.
7 mists.
8 dun grew.
9 covered smooth
with snow.
10 stony clifl's shone.
11 blasts.
12 piercing.
13 Thick fopgy shadows darkened.
14 threw.
15 cruel blast-,
16 showers. IT biting.
18 drear}-.
19 floo<lo<l with torrent.
So loud ne rummist wyld lioun or beir.
Fludis monstreis, sic as meirswyne or quhailis1
For the tempest law in the deip devallyis2.
Mars Occident, retrograide in his speir,
Provocand stryff, regnit as lord that yeir.
Rany Orioune wyth his stormy face
Bewalit of the schipman hy his rays,
Frawart3 Saturne, chill of complexioune,
Throw quhais aspect derth and infectioune
Bene causit oft, and mortale pestilens,
Went progressiue the greis of his ascens4 ;
And lusty Hebe, Junois douchtir gay,
Stud spulyeit5 of hir office and array.
The soill ysowpit into wattir wak6,
The firmament ourkest with rokis7 blak,
The ground fadyt, and fauch wolx8 all the feildis,
Montayne toppis sleikit wyth snaw ourheildis9,
On raggit rolkis of hard harsk quhyne stane
With frosyne frontis cauld clynty clewis schane10.
Bewtie wes lost, and barrand schew the landis
With frostis haire ourfret the feildis standis.
Soure bittir bubbis11 and the schowris snell"
Semyt on the sward ano similitude of hell,
Reducyng to our mynd, in every steid,
Goustly schaddois of eild and grisly deid,
Thik drumly scuggis dirknit18 so the hevyne.
Dym skyis oft furth warpit14 feirfull levyne,
Flag^is of fyir, and mony felloun flawe15,
Scharp soppis16 of sleit and of the snypand17 snawe.
The dowy18 dichis war all donk and wait,
The law vaille flodderit all wyth spait19,
WINTER.
251
The plane streits and every hie way
Full of fluschis, doubbis, myre, and clay.
Laggerit leys wallowit1 farnys schewe,
Broune muris kithit thair wysnit2 mossy hewe,
Bank, bra, and boddum3 blanseb.it wolx and bair,
For gurll4 weddir grovvyt bestis haire.
The wynd maid wayfe5 the reid weyd on the dyk ;
Bedovin in donkis deyp wes every syk6.
Our craggis and the front of rochis seyre7
Hang gret isch-schoklis lang as ony spere.
The grund stude barrand, widderit, dosk, and gray ;
Herbis, flouris, and gersis wallowit away8.
Woddis, forestis, wyth nakyt bewis blout9,
Stud strypyt of thair weyd in every hout10,
So bustuysly11 Boreas his bugill blew,
The deyr full dern1- dovn in the dalis drew.
Smal byrdis, flokand throw thik ronnis13 thrang,
In chyrmyug and with cheping14 changit thair sang,
Sekand hidlis and hirnys15 thaim to hyde
Fra feirfull thudis of the tempestuus tyde.
The wattir lynnis routtis16, and euery lynde17
Quhyslyt and brayt of the swouchand18 wynde.
Puire laboraris and byssy husband men
Went wayt and wery draglyt in the fen.
The silly scheip and thair lytill hyrd gromis
Lurkis vndir le of bankis, wodys, and bromys ;
And wthir dantit19 gretar bestial
Within thair stabillis sesyt20 into stall,
Sic as mulis, horsis, oxin, and ky21,
Fed tuskit baris, and fat swyne in st.y,
Sustenit war by mannis gouernance
1
2 wSSir
3 bottom.
4 stormy.
5 wave.
6 nil.
7 many.
S withered away.
9 boughs bare.
10 wood (bolt).
11 rudely.
12 secretly. is shrubs.
1S '
is soughing.
19 daunted.
20 secured. in kine.
252 GAVIN DOUGLAS,
On hervist and on symmeris purviance. 2 shriii!d near' Widequhair1 with fors so Eolus schouttis schyll2
In this congelit sessioune scharp and chyll, s cool. The callour3 air, penetrative and puire,
4 fyin'gg> Stupe Dasyng4 the bluide in every creature,
5 genial hot fires. Maid seik warm stovis and beyne fyris hoyt5,
6 under-vest. jn J0uble garmont cled and wyly-coyt6,
"VVyth mychty drink and meytis confortive, Agayne the storme wyntre fur to strive.
I basked'"'' Repaterit7 weill and by the chymnay beykyt8 9 stretched. At evin be tyme dovne a bed I me streikit1', iowraPPe<i. Warpit10 my heid, kest on claythis thrinfauld,
For till expell the perrellus peirsand cauld.
II then prepared. I crocit me, syne bownit11 for to sleip
12 heed. Quhair, leinand throw the glas, I did tak keip12
Latonia, the lang irksum nycht,
is glances. j^ir subtell blenkis13 sched and wattry lycht Full hie wp quhyrlyt in hir regioune, Till Phebus rycht in oppositioune, Into the Crab hir propir mansioune draw, Haldand the hycht allthocht the son went law. Hornit Hebawde, quhilk clepe we the nycht owle, Within hir caverne hard I schout and yowle.
14 distorted. Laithlie of forme, wyth crukit camschow14 beik, Vgsum15 to heir was hir wyld elriche10 screik.
16 uncanny.
The wyld geis claking eik by nychtis tyde nov.r. Attoure17 the citie fleand hard I glyde.
is gmv.-, .i».-p. (),, slummyr I tdaid full sad18, and slepit sownd <,» ihill the oriyont wpwart gan relx)und.
WINTER.
253
Phebus' crownit byrd, the nychtis orloger,
Clappand his wyngis thryse had craw in cleir.
Approching neir the greiking1 of the day,
Wythin my bed I waikynnit quhair I lay.
So fast declinis Synth ea the mone,
And kais keklis2 on the ruiff abone3.
Palamedes byrdis Grouping in the sky,
Fleand on randoune4 schapin lik ane Y,
And as ane trumpat rang thair vocis soun,
Quhais cryis bene prognosticatioun
Off wyndy blastis and ventositeis.
Fast by my chalmir, in heych wysnit treis5,
The soir gled° quhislis loud wyth mony ane pew,
Quhairby the day was dawin, weil I knew.
Bad beit the fyire, and the candill alycht,
Syne blissit me, and, in my wedis dycht,
Ane schot-wyndo7 vnschet a lytill on char,
Persawit the mornyng bla, wan, and bar8,
Wyth cloudy gum and rak9 ourquhelmit the air,
The soulye stythlie hasart, rowch, and hair10,
Branchis brattlyng, and blayknit schew the brays11,
With hyrstis harsk of waggand wyndilstrays12,
The dew-droppis congelyt on stybill and rynd,
And scharp hailstanis, mortfundit13 of kynd,
Hoppand on the thak and on the causay14 by.
The schot I clossit and drew inwart in hy15,
Chiverand for cauld, the sessoun was so snell,
Schup16 with hait flambe to fleme1" the fresyng fell,
And as I bownit18 me to the fyre me by
Bayth wp and downe the hous I did aspy,
And seand Virgill on ane lettrune19 stand,
1 graying, dawn.
2 daws cackle.
3 above.
4 in flight
5 high withered trees.
6 sorrel hawk.
7 A projected window.
8 livid, wan, and grey.
9 mist and cloud.
10 The soil hard- frosted, misty, and gray.
11 bleak appeared the hills.
12 bare spots rough with wagging dried grasses.
13 cold as death.
14 thatch ami causeway.
15 in haste.
16 addressed mo.
17 drive away.
18 addressed.
19 writing table.
254
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
1 seized.
2 ere then.
3 became annoyed some what
4 must.
5 chanct-.
6 Overturned.
T.though.
8 chose.
9 to leave over.
10 stop.
11 one-fold, honest.
12 out -tidd and in-neld.
To writ anone I hynt1 ane pen in hand,
For till performe the poet grave and sad,
Quham sa fer furth, or than2, begun I had,
And wolx ennoyit sum-deyll3 in my hart,
Thair restit vncouipleittit so gret ane part,
And til myself I said in guid effect,
"Thow man4 draw forth, the yok lyis on thi nek."
"VVythin my mynd compasing thocht I so,
"Na-thing is done quhill ocht remanis to do."
For hyssines quhilk occurrit on cace5
Ourvoluit6 I this volume lay ane space,
And, thocht7 I wery was, me lyst8 nocht tyre,
Full laith to leve our9 werk swa in the myre,
Or yit to stynt10 for byttir storme or rane.
Heyr I assayit to yok our pleuch agane,
And, as I culd, with afauld11 diligence
This nixt buike following of profund sentence
Has thus begoune in the chyll wyntir cauld,
Quhen frostis days ourfret bayth fyrth and fauld12.
MORNING IN MAY.
Prologue to the Twelfth Book of tJie jtEneid. *
DYONEA, nycht hyrd, and wach of day,
The starnis chasit of the hevin away,
Dame Cynthea dovn rolling in the see,
And Venus lost the bewte of hir e,
Fleand eschamyt within Cylenyus cave.
Mars onbydrew1 for all his grundin glave2, •_> Tilarpened
Nor frawart3 Saturn, from his mortall speyr, 3 untoward
Durst langer in the firmament appeir,
Bot stall abak yond in his regioun far,
Behynd the circulat warld of Jupiter.
Nycthemyne, affrayit of the lycht,
Went vndir covert, for gone was the nycht,
As fresch Aurora, to mychty Tythone spous,
Ischit of hir safron bed and evir4 hous 4 ivory.
In crammysin5 cled and granit violat, 5 cramoisie,
* crimson cloth.
With sanguyne cape and selvage purpurat6, 6 purple e.ige.
Onschot the windois of hyr large hall, Spred all with rosys and full of balm ryall, And eik the hevinly portis crystallyne
* In 1752 two English versions of this prologue appeared, one in the Scots' Magazine by Jerome Stone, schoolmaster of Dun- keld, and another by Francis Fawkes. Of the latter, Mr. Small quotes two fine passages in his introduction to Douglas. Warton also gives a prose paraphrase of the prologue in his History of English Poetry.
256
GA VI N DOUGLAS.
i opened np
3 mingled
4 rampart.
5 screen wall.
6 sorrel, reddish
7 nostrils.
8 Tin.
is heavenly.
14 incense.
covering the 18vaneHg°Iden
19 glance.
Vpwarpis braid1, the warld to illumyn.
The twinkling stremowris of the orient
Sched purpour sprangis2 with gold and asure ment3,
Persand the sabill barmkyn4 nocturnal!,
Bet doun the skyis clowdy mantill wall5.
Eous the steid with ruby hamis reid
Abuf the seyis lyftis furth his heid
Of cullour soyr6, and sum-deill brovn as berry,
For to alichtyn and glaid our emyspery,
The flambe owtbrastyng at his neys thyrlys7.
Sa fast Phaeton wyth the quhip him quhirlys
To roll Apollo his faderis goldin chair
That schrowdyth all the hevynnis and the ayr,
Quhill8 schortly, with the blesand torch of day,
Abilyeit9 in his lemand10 fresch array,
Furth of hys palyce ryall ischyt Phebus
Wyth goldin crovn and vissage gloryus,
Crysp hairis, brycht as chrysolite or topace,
For quhais hew mycht nane behald his face,
The fyry sparkis brastyng fra his ene
To purge the ayr and gylt the tendyr grene,
Defundand11 from hys sege12 etheriall
Glaid influent aspectis celicall13
Before his regale hie magnificens
Mysty vapour vpspringand, sweit as sens14,
In smoky soppis15 of donk dewis wak16
Moich hailsum stovis ourheildand the slak17.
The aureat fanysi8 of hys trone souerane
With glytrand glans ourspred the occiane,
The large ftudis lemand all of lycht
Bot with a blenk19 of his supernale sycht.
MORNING IN MA V.
257
For to behald, it was a gloir to se
The stabillit1 wyndis and the cawrayt see2,
The soft sessoun, the firmament serene,
The lowne3 illumynat air, the fyrth amene,
The syluer-scalit fyschis on the greit4
Ourthwort5 cleir stremis sprynkland0 for the heyt,
"VVyth fynnis schyriand brovn as synopar",
And chyssell talis, stowrand8 heyr and thar.
The new cullour alychtnyng all the landis,
Forgane thir stannyris9 schane the beryall strandis,
Quhill the reflex of the diurnal bemis
The bene bonkis10 kest ful of variant glemis,
And lusty Flora did hir blomis spreid
Ynder the feit of Phebus sulyart11 steid.
The swardit soyll enbrovd with selcouth12 hewis
Wod and forest obumbrat13 with thar bewis,
Quhois blissfull branchis, porturat on the grund,
With schaddois schene schew rochis rubycund.
Towris, turattis, kyrnellis14, pynuaclis hie
Of kirkis, castellis, and ilke15 fair cite,
Stude payntit, euery fyall, fane, and stage16,
Apon the plane grund by thar awin vmbrage.
Of Eolus north blastis havand no dreyd,
The sulye17 spred hyr braid bosum on breid,
Zephyrus' confortabill inspiratioun
For till ressaue law in hyr barm18 adoun.
The cornis croppis19 and the beris new brerd20
Wyth glaidsum garmond revesting the erd,
So thik the plantis sprang in euery pece
The feyldis ferleis21 of thar fructuus flece.
Byssy dame Ceres and provd Pryapus,
s ii
1 stilled.
2 calmed sex
•
3 still.
4 sand.
5 Athwart.
6 darting.
7 cinnabar.
8 storming.
9 Opposite this gravel.
10 The pleasant banks.
11 glittering.
12 strange.
13 shadowed.
14 battlements.
15 each.
16 tower, vane, and storey.
IT soil.
IS bosom.
19 tops.
20 leaf.
•_>1 marvel.
258
GA VIN DOUGLAS.
1 Furnished.
2 Stretching
broad.
3 pleasant.
4 turfy furrow.
5 sward.
6 leaves.
7 dispersed.
8 Restoring.
9 grasses.
10 rampart.
11 buds.
12 locked.
13 sky-coloured.
1 4 dark brown (brunette).
15 grey.
16 rose-red.
17 reddish.
18 degree. lOdwpwavygea. 20 divided.
Reiosyng of the plan is plenteus,
Plenyst1 sa plesand and maist propirly
By nature nurist wonclir nobilly.
On the fertill skyrt lappis of the ground,
Stroking on breid2 ondyr the cirkill rovnd,
The variant vestur of the venust3 vaill
Schrowdis the scherald fur4, and euery faill5
Ourfret with fulyeis6 of figuris full diuers
The spray bysprent with spryngand sproutis dispers7.
For callour humour on the dewy nycht,
Rendryng8 sum place the gers9 pilis thar hycht
Als far as catal, the lang symmeris day,
Had in thar pastur eyt and knyp away ;
And blisfull blossummis in the blomyt yard
Submittis thar hedis in the yong sonnis salfgard.
Ive levis rank ourspred the barmkin10 wall,
The blomyt hawthorn cled his pikis all.
Furth of fresch burgionis11 the wyne-grapis ying
Endlang the treilyeis dyd on twystis hing.
The lowkyt12 buttonis on the gemmyt treis
Ourspredand leyvis of naturis tapestreis;
•Soft gresy verdour eftir balmy schowris
On curland stalkis smyling to thar flowris.
Behaldand thame sa mony diuers new,
Sum pers18, sum paill, sum burnet14, and sum blew,
Sum grece15, sum gowlis16, sum purpour, sum sangwane,
Blanchit or brovne, fawch17 yallow mony ane,
Sum hevynly cullorit in celestiall gre18,
Sum wattry hewifc as the haw wally see19,
And sum depart'20 in freklys red and quhyte,
Sum brycht as gold with aureat levis lyte,
MORNING IN MA Y.
259
The dasy dyd on breid hir crownell1 smaill, And euery flour onlappit2 in the daill, In battill gyrs bxirgionys the banwart3 wyld, The clavyr, catcluke, and the cammamyld; The flour-de-lice furth spied his hevinly hew, Flour dammes4, and coluraby blank and blew ; Seyr5 downis smaill on dent-de-lion sprang, The ying grene blomyt straberry levis amang. Gynip gerraflouris6 thar royn7 levys vnschet, Fresche prymros, and the purpour violet. The roys knoppis, tetand8 furth thar heyd, Gan chyp, and kyth9 thar vermel lippis red; Crysp scarlet levis sum scheddaml, baith attanis Kest fragrant smell amyd from goldin gran is. Hevinly lylleis, with lokerand10 toppis quhyte, Oppynnit and schew thar creistis redymyte11, The balmy vapour from thar sylkyn croppis Distylland hailsum sugurat hunny droppis; And syluer schakaris12 gan fra levis hyng Wyth crystal sprayngis13 on the verdour ying : The plane pulderyt14 with seniely settis15 sovnd, Bedyit16, full of dewy peirlis rovnd, So that ilk burgioun, syon17, herb, and flour Wolx all enbalmyt of the fresch liquour, And bathit hait did in dulce humouris fleit18, Quharof the beis wrocht thar hunny sweit, By michty Phebus operatic unis In sappy subtell exalatiounis. Forgane19 the cummyn of this prince potent Redolent odour vp from rutis sprent20, Hailsum of smell as ony spicery,
1 spread abroad her coronet.
2 unfolded.
2 In rank grass buds the bane- wort.
4 damask rose.
5 Many.
6 Dainty gilly- flowers.
7 vermilion.
8 rose-knobs peeping.
9 show.
10 curling.
11 ornate.
12 thin hanging plates.
13 sprays.
14 powdered.
15 shoots.
16 dipped in water.
17 each bud, shoot.
18 float.
19 Against.
20 sprang.
2&O
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
1 soap (?) (Fr. savon).
2 pomade (for- merly made from apples and lemons).
3 These cheerful.
4 each gm-n arbour.
5 rustle. •
6 bulrushes.
7 OVIT all these lakes.
8 Seeking by i.atuiv.
fl stir.
10 stretching.
11 tho plants and
the delicate roots.
12 Pecking.
IS practises.
14 peacock.
15 neat.
10 Dressed in his feather covering.
17 Portraying.
18 brushwood.
19 branches.
20 Many.
21 oaks.
22 mates. 28 windows.
24 mi'i
25 upstirs.
26 Till the crow.
Tryakle, droggis, or electuary,
Seroppis, sewane1, sugour, and synainonie,
Precyus invnctment, salve, or fragrant pome2,
Aruinatik gummis, or ony fyne potioun,
Must, myr, aloes, or confectioun ;
Ane paradice it semyt to draw neyr
Thyr galyart3 gardyngis and like greyn herbere4.
Maist amyabill walxis the amerant medis.
Swannys swouchis5 throw-out the rysp6 and redis,
Our al thir lowys" and the fludis gray
Seyrsand by kynd8 a place quhar thai suld lay.
Phebus red fowle hys corall creist can steyr9,
Oft streking10 furth hys hekkyll, crawand cleir,
Amyd the wortis and the rutis gent11
Pykland12 his meyt in alleis quhar he went,
Hys wifis, Toppa and Pertelok, hym by,
As byrd al tyme that hantis13 bygamy.
The payntit povne14, pasand with plomys gym15,
Kest vp his taill, a provd plesand quheil rym,
Yschrowdryt in hys fedramuie10 brycht and schene,
Schapand17 the prent of Argus' hundreth ene.
Amang the brounis18 of the olyve twestis19
Seyr20 small fowlis wirkand crafty nestis
Endlang the hedgeis thyk and on rank akis21,
Ilk byrd reiosyng with thar myrthfull makis22.
In corneris and cleir fenystaris^'3 of glas
Full byssely Aragne wevand was,
To knit hyr nettis and hir wobbys sle,
Tharwith to caucht the myghe24 and littill fle.
So dusty puldyr vpstowris25 in euery streyt,
<t>uhill corby20 gaspyt for the fervent heyt.
MORNING IN MA Y.
261
Vnder the bewys beyn1 in lusty valis,
Within fermans2 and parkis cloys of palys,
The bustuus bukkis rakis3 furth on raw ;
Heyrdis of hertis throw the the thyk wod schaw,
Baith the brokettis4, and with brayd bnrnyst tyndis;
The sprutlyt5 calvys sowkand the reid hyndis,
The yong fownis followand the dun dayis,
Ivyddis skippand throw ronnis6 eftir rayis.
In lyssouris7 and on leys littill lam mis
Full tait and trig socht8 bletand to thar dammis.
Tydy ky lowys9, veilys by thame rynnis ;
All snog and slekyt worth thir bestis skynnis.
On salt stremis wolx Doryda and Thetis ;
By rynnand strandis Nymphis and Naedes,
Syk as we clepe10 wenchis and damysellis,
In gresy gravis11 wandrand by spring wellis,
Of blomyt branchis and flowris quhite and rede
Plettand thar lusty chaiplettis for thar hede.
Sum sing sangis, dansis ledys, and rovndis12,
Wyth vocis schill13, quhill all the daill resovndis.
Quharso thai walk into thar caraling
For amorus lays doith all the rochis ryng.
Ane sang, "The schip salis our the salt fame
Will bring thir merchandis and my leinman hame ! "
Sum other singis, " [ wil be blyth and lycht,
Myne hart is lent apon sa gudly wycht ! "
And thochtfull luffaris rowmys to and fro,
To leis14 thar pane ;md plene15 thar joly wo
Eftyr thar gys16, now singand, now in sorow,
With hartis pensyve, the lang symmeris morow.
Sum ballettis lyst emlyte of his lady,
1 pleasant boughs.
2 enclosures.
3 bold bucks range.
4 two-year-olds.
5 speckled.
6 brushwood.
7 pastures.
8 tight and neat, made their way.
9 kine low.
10 Such as we name.
11 In grassy groves.
12 round (dances).
13 clear.
14 lose.
15 pour forth. 10 After their
guise.
262
GAVIN DOUGLAS.
\ entirely.
2 flatter and feign.
3 practise.
4 unlawful means.
5 whispers.
6 stolen pleasure and pastime.
8 whit.
9 such.
10 latter.
11 laughed.
12 tickles.
18 Seeing by nature.
1-1 melody.
15 direction.
16 amend, abate.
17 sorrow.
18 burst.
Sum levis in hoip, and sum aluterly1
Disparyt is, and sa quyte owt of grace ;
His purgatory he fyndis in euery place.
To pleis his luife sum thocht to flat and fene2,
Sum to hant3 bawdry and onlesum mene4 ;
Sum rownys5 to hys fallow, thame betwene,
Hys inery stouth and pastans6 lait yistrene.
Smyland sayis ane, " I couth in previte
Schaw the a bowrd7." " Ha, quhat be that ? " quod he.
"Quhat tiling? — That moste be secret," sayd the
tother.
" Gude Lord ! mysbeleif ye your verray brother ? " " Na, neuyr a deill8, bot harkis quhat I wald ; Thou mon be prevy." " Lo, my hand vphald ! " " Than sal thou walk at evin." Quod he, " Quhiddyr? " "In sik9 a place heyr west, we bayth togiddyr, Quhar scho so freschly sang this hyndir10 nycht ; Do chois the" ane and I sal quynch the lycht." " I sal be thar, I hope," quod he, and lewch11 ; "Ya, now I^knaw the mater weill enewch." Thus oft dywulgat is this schamefull play, Na-thing according to our hailsum May, Bot rathyr contagius and infective, And repugnant that sessoun nutrytive Quhen new curage kytlis12 all gentill hartis, Seand throu kynd18 ilk thyng springis and revertis. Dame Naturis menstralis, on that other part, Thayr blyssfull bay14 entonyng euery art1'', To beyt10 thar amouris of thar nychtis baill17, The merll, the mavys, and the nychtingale With mery notis myrthfully furth brest18,
MORNING IN MA Y.
263
Enforsing thame quha mycht do clynk it best. The cowschet crowdis and pirkis on the rys1 ; The styrlyng changis diners stevynnys nys2; The sparrow chyrmis in the wallis clyft ; Goldspyrik and lyntquhyte fordynnand the lyft3 ; The gukgo galis4, and so quytteris5 the quaill, Quhill ryveris rerdyt6 schawis and euery vaill, And tender twystis7 trymlyt on the treis For byrdis sang and berayng of the beis ; In wrablis dulce8 of hevynly annonyis The larkis, lowd releschand9 in the skyis, Lovys thar lege10 with tonys curyus Baith to Dame Natur and the fresch Venus, Kendryng hie lawdis in thar obseruance, Quhais suguryt throtis mayd glayd hartis dans; And al small fowlys singis on the spray. " Welcum, the lord of lycht and lamp of day ! Welcum, fostyr of tendir herbys grene ! Welcum, quyknar of florist flowris schene ! Welcum, support of euery rute and vane11 ! Welcum, confort of alkynd fruyt and grane ! Welcum, the byrdis beyld1:i apon the breyr ! Welcum, maister and rewlar of the yeyr ! Welcum, weilfar of husbandis at the plewis ! Welcnm, reparar of woddis, treis, and bewis13; Welcum, depayntar of the blomyt medis ! Welcum, the lyfe of euery thing that spredis ! We Icum, stourour14 of alkynd bestiall ! Welcum be thi brycht bemys, glading all ! Welcum celestial 1 myrrour and aspy, Atteching15 all that hantis™ sluggardy?"
1 The ring-dove coos and perches on the twigs.
2 delicate sounds.
3 made the heaven resound.
4 calls.
5 twitters.
6 made mur- murous.
7 twigs.
8 warbles sweet.
9 letting go (tlieir song).
10 Praise their liege.
ttbr<-.
12 shelter.
13 boughs.
14 bestirrer, ruler.
15 Reproving.
16 practuv.
264 GAVIN DOUGLAS.
And with this word, in chalmer quhair 1 lay, The nynt morow of fresche, temperat May,
On fut J sPrentl into my ba>'r s;ll'k"' s tedious. Wilful for till compleyt my langsum3 wark
Twichand the lattyr buke of Dan Virgill, Quhilk me had tareyt al to lang a quhile,
4 i.e. the sun. And to behald the cummyng of this kyng4
That was sa welcum tyll all warldly thyng, With sic tryumphe and pompos curage glayd,
5 mansions. Than of his souerane chymmis5, as is sayd,
Newly arissyn in hys estayt ryall, e without clock. That, by hys hew, but orleger*5 or dyall, I knew it was past four houris of day, And thocht I wald na langar ly in May
7 siuggaKi. Les Phebus suld me losanger7 attaynt.
8 ere then. For Progne had or than8 sung hyr complaynt,
And eik hir drei<lful systir Philomene Hir lais endit, and in woddis grene
9 ^^Vl1? 88. Hyd hir-selvin, eschamyt of hyr chance9; And Esacus completis his pennance In riveris, fludis, and on euery laik ; And Peristera byddis luffaris awaik. " Do serve my lady Venus heyr with me ! Lern thus to mak your obseruance," quod she. " Into myne hartis ladeis sweit presens
10 bow. Rehaldis how I beinge10 and do reuerens."
Hir nek scho wrinklis, trasing mony fold, With plomis glitterand, asur ;ipon gold, Rendring a cullour betwix grene and blew In purpour gians of huvinly variant hew. I meyn our awin native bird, g<'iitill dow,
MORNING IN MA Y. 265
Syngand in hyr kynd "I come hidder to wow,"
So pryklyng hyr grene curage for to crowd1 i coo.
In amorus voce and wowar soundis lowd,
That, for the dynning of hir wanton cry,
I irkyt of my bed and mycht nocht ly,
Bot gan me blys, syne in my wedis dres,
, , . , , 0 2 early morn, ere
And, for it was ayr morow, or tyme ot mes% time of mass.
I hynt a scriptour3 and my pen furth tuike. Syne thus begouth of Virgill the twelt buike.
1 quickly.
2 Which then.
3 store.
4 green.
5 glanced on t
heaven.
0 became. 7 all, whol--.
S(1piunge<i
9 meadows.
EVENING AND MORNING IN JUNE.
From " The Prolong of the Threttene Bulk of Eneados ekit^io Virgill be Mapheus Vegius."
TOWART the evin, am yd the suinmyris heyt, Quhen in tlie Crab Appollo held his sete, Duryng the joyous moneth tyme of June, As gone neir was the day, and suppar done, I walkit furth abowt the feildis tyte1 Quhilkis tho2 replenist stude full of delyte, With herbis, cornis, catale, and frute treis, Plente of stoyr3, byrdis and byssy beis In amerant4 medis fleand est and west, Eftir laubour to tak the nychtis rest. And M I Wy«kyt on the lift5 me by, All byrnand reid gan walxin1' the evin sky ; The son, enfyrit haill" as to my sycht, Quhirlit about his ball with bemis brycht, Declynand fast towart the north in deyd ; And fyry I'lilegon, his dym nychtis steid, Dowkyt8 his heid sa deip in fludis gray That Phebus rollis doun vnder hell away, And Esperus in the west wyth bemis brycht Vpspringis, as for-ridar of the nycht. Amyd the hawchis9 and euery lusty vaill
EVENING AND MORNING IN JUNE.
267
The recent dew begynnis doun to scaill1,
To nieys2 the byrnyng quhar the son had schine,
Quhilk tho was to the neddir warld decline.
At euery pilis3 point and cornis croppis4
The techrys stude as lemand beriall droppis5
And on the hailsum herbis clene, but wedis6,
Lyke crystall knoppis7 or small siluer bedis.
The lycht begouth to quynkill out and faill,
The day to dyrkyn8, decline, and devaill9;
The gummis10 rysis, doun fallis the donk rym11,
Baith heyr and thair scuggis12 and schaddpis dym.
Vpgois the bak13 wyth hir pelit14 ledderyn flycht;
The lark discendis from the skyis hycht,
Singand hyr compling sang15 eftyr hyr gys16,
To tak hyr rest, at matyn hour to rys.
Owt our the swyre17 swymmis the soppis18 of mist,
The nycht furthspred hyr cloke with sabill lyst10,
That all the bewtie of the fructuus feyld
Was wyth the erthis vmbrage clene ourheild20.
Bath man and beste, fyrth21, flude, and woddis wild
Involuit in the schaddois warrin sild22.
Still war the fowlis fleis23 in the ayr,
All stoyr24 and catall seysit25 in thair lair,
And euery thing, quharso thame likis best,
Bovvnis26 to tak the hailsum riychtis rest
Eftir the day's laubour and the heyt.
Gloss warring all and at thar soft quyet,
But storage27 or removing, he or sche,
Oii'ler28 best, byrd, fysch, fowle, by land or se;
And schortlie euery thing that dois repare
1 scatter.
2 allay.
3 hair'.-..
4 tips.
5 The dew stood like burning beryl drops.
6 free from weeds.
7 knobs.
8 darken.
9 descend.
10 mists.
11 dank rime.
12 clouds.
13 bat.
14 naked.
15 even-song.
16 guise.
17 gorge.
18 clouds.
19 edge.
20 covered over.
21 pasture-land.
22 were hidden.
23 Silent wen- the birds' flights.
24 store.
25 secured.
L'li Makes ready.
27 Without stir. •J8 Either.
268 GA VI N DOUGLAS.
In firth or feyld, flude, forest, erth, or ayr,
Or in the scroggis1 or the buskis ronk,
Lakis, marrasis, or thir pulis donk, 2 lies. Astabillit liggis2 still to slepe, and restis;
Be the small birdis syttand on thar nestis ; 3re»tiess. The litill midgeis, and the vrusum3 fleyis,
4 ants. Laboryus emmotis4, and the byssy beyis,
Als weill the wild as the taym bestiall, And euery othir thingis gret and small,
5 except. Owtak5 the mery nychtgaill, Philomene,
6 from tiie heart. That on the thorn sat syngand f ra the splene6.
Qnhais myrthfull notis langing for to heyr,
7 laurel. Ontill a garth vndir a greyn lawrer7
8 seat. I walk onon and in a sege8 down sat,
Now musand apon this and now on that. I se the poill and eik the Ursis brycht, And hornyt Lncyne, castand bot dym lycht Becaus the symmyr skyis schayn sa cleyr : ( roldin Venus, the mastres of the yeir, And gentill Jove, with hir participate, Thar bewtuus bemis sched in blyth estayt; That schortly, thar as I was lenyt doun, For nychtis silens, and this byrdis sovn, On sleip I slaid.
[In a dream Mapheus Vegins, author of the additional book appended to the work of Virgil, appears to the poet and induces him, partly by argument, partly by twenty blows with a cudgel, to include that book in his translation.]
And I for feir awoik,
9gianc.-.i. And blent9 abowt to the north-est weill far,
Saw gentill rlubar schynand, the day star,
EVENING AND MORNING IN JUNE. 269
And Chiron, clepit the sing1 of Sagittary,
That walkis the symmirris nycht, to bed gan cary.
Yondyr dovn dwynis2 the evin sky away,
And vpspryngis the brycht dawing of day
Intill ane other place nocht far in sundir,
That to behald was plesans and half wondir,
Furth quynching gan the starris, one be one,
That now is left hot Lucifer allone.
And forthirmore, to blason this new day,
Quha mycht disc rive3 the byrdis blyssfull bay4 ?
IJelyve5 on weyng the bissy lark vpsprang
To salus6 the blyth morrow with hir sang.
Sone our the feildis schinis the lycht cleyr,
Welcum to pilgrym baith and lauborer.
Tyte on his hynis gaif the greif7 a cry,
" Awaik on fut, go till our husbandry ! "
And the hird callis furth apon his page,
" Do drive the catell to thar pasturage ! "
The hynnis wyfe clepis8 vp Katheryn and Gill ;
" Ya, dame," sayd thai, God wait9, wyth a gude will.
The dewy grene, pulderit10 with daseis gay,
Schew on the sward a cullour dapill gray;
The mysty vapouris springand vp full sweit,
Maist confortabill to glaid all mannis spreit;
Tharto, tliir byrdis singis in the schawis11,
As menstralis playng, " The joly day now dawis ! "
1 called the sign.
•2 wanes, declines.
3 describe.
4 melody.
5 Immediately.
6 salute.
T Quickly on his hinds gave the steward.
8 calls.
9 God knows.
10 jKwdfivd.
James Skinner & Co., Printers, Edinburgh.
ABBOTSFORD SERIES OF THE SCOTTISH POETS.
EDITED BY GEORGE EYRE-TODD.
Bmmd in (loth, crown 8vo., Ss. Gd. each volume.
A limited number of copies printed on large antique paper, Roxburgh binding, price 5s. nett.
THIS series is intended to reproduce in popular form the best Works of the Scottish Poets, from the earliest times onwards ; and it is hoped within a moderate number of volumes to furnish a comprehensive library of the Poetry of Scotland.
No liberties whatever are taken with the texts, which are edited from the best editions, and furnished with necessary intro- ductions and glossaries.
The first two volumes of the series are now ready : —
EARLY SCOTTISH POETRY : Thomas the Rhymer, John Barbour, Andrew of Wyntoun, and Henry the Minstrel.
MEDIAEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY : James I. of Scotland, Robert Henryson, William Dunbar, and Gavin Douglas.
The following volumes are in preparation : —
SCOTTISH POETRY OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY : Sir David Lyndsay, John Bellenden, Sir Richard Maitland, James V., Alexander Scot, and Alexander Montgomery.
SCOTTISH BALLAD POETRY: The best historical, legendary, and imaginative ballads of Scotland.
The particulars of succeeding volumes will be afterwards announced.
EARLY SCOTTISH POETRY.
PRESS OPINIONS.
A good service is being done to Scottish literature by Mr. Eyre-Todd in his " Abbotsford Series" of reprints. His introductory essays show learning, insight, and critical ability, while the discrimination exercised in his treat- ment of the text is excellent. — Daily Chronicle.
Should possess great interest for all lovers of poetry. The volume fills what appears to be a gap in the rank of our published books of to-day. — Graphic.
What Mr. Eyre-Todd has undertaken has been carried out in a manner deserving of the highest praise. Such a beginning promises well for this "Abbotsford Series," which, when the volumes already announced have appeared, will have gone a long way towards supplying a "comprehensive library of the 1'oetry of Scotland." — Glasgow Herald.
The ' ' get-up " of the book is tasteful in the highest degree, and the type is superb. If the succeeding volumes prove as satisfactory as this, we shall have for the first time a good anthology of Scottish poetry. — Quiz.
The selections made by the editor from the works of Thomas the Rhymer, John Baibour, Andrew of Wyntoun, and Henry the Minstrel are excellent. . . . This first volume will be welcomed as a praiseworthy effort to open up what is to all but scholars a new field of literary interest. — British Weekly,
Mr. Eyre-Todd is to be praised alike for the quality and the limited quantity of his editing. . . . In appearance the book is in every way worthy of a classical reprint. — Anti-Jacobin.
. . . We have nothing but praise for the scholarly way in which Mr. Eyre-Todd has edited the present volume ; . . . his brief biographical and analytical notes of each poet to the reader are models of clear, concise criticism. — N.B. Daily Mail.
It is a gratifying sign of the interest still taken in our early poetry that an attempt is made in so praiseworthy a form as this to attract a wider circle of readers to their study. . . . Everyone who has the best interests of literature at heart will wish them success. — Scotsm m.
A most praiseworthy enterprise.— Glasgow Evening Times.
The selections are well chosen, and the connecting matter is succinct. . . . Mr. Eyre-Todd has done his work with integrity. — Literary Opinion.
This Hrst volume is admirable in itself, and promises well for the volumes which are to follow. The " Abbotsford Series " deserves success, and we have no doubt success will be attained. — Modern Church.
Everyone must give a hearty welcome to this new venture to bring the best portions of Scottish Poetry within the reach of all. We hope not a few teachers will have the courage to introduce one of the volumes into their higher classes alongside of Chaucer, who has hitherto been dominant, much to the loss of our home literature.— Aberdeen Journal.
It is just the book to send at Christmas to the Scot abroad. -Dtimtxirton Herald.
The selections have been made with discrimination.— National Observer.
The selections are excellent— Bookman.
Mr. Eyre-Todd's work is thoroughly well done.— Dundee Advertiser.
LONDON £ KIMMU'RGH: SANDS & CO.
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