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printed, &c. 1792) is a curious specimen of the ancient moralities, and forms a most entertaining commentary on the manners of the times in which it was written. The scenes of "the poor man and "the pardoner," (beginning at page 61) and of "the parliament of correction," p. 141, are, per haps, the most striking.

But the most pleasing of all this author's works is certainly the "History of Squire Meldrum,” contained in Mr. Pinkerton's re-publication, (Vol. I. p. 147). The romantic and singular, but authentic, character of the hero, is painted with great strength and simplicity; and the versification possesses a degree of facility and elegance at least equal to the most polished compositions of Drayton. Of this the reader will judge from the following specimen, which is taken from the beginning of the second book. (Pink. Scot. Poems, Vol. I. p. 179, &c.)

2

And as it did approach the night,
Af a castell he got a sight,

Beside a mountain, in a vale:
And then, after his great travail,

He purposed him to repois,2
Where ilk man did of him rejoice.

Work, Fr.; or perhaps travel, i. e. journey.

The original spelling is, here, necessary for the rhyme.

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Of this triumphant pleasant place,
A lusty lady' was mistress;

Whose lord was dead some time before,
Wherethrough, her dolour was the more.
But yet, she took some comforting,
To hear the pleasant dulce talking
Of this young squyer; of his chance,
And how it fortuned him in France.

This squyer, and the lady gent,
Did wash; and then to supper went.
During that night, there was nought else
But for to hear of his novelles.
Æneas, when he fled from Troy,
Did not queen Dido greater joy,
When he in Carthage did arrive,
And did the siege of Troy descrive.
The wonders that he did rehearse
Were langsum 3 for to put in verse;
Of which this lady did rejoice:
They drank, and sen 4 went to repois.

He found his chamber well array'd,

With dornick-work 5 on board display'd.

Lady Gleneagles. (Vide Lindsay's Hist. of Scot. p 200.) Adventures. Fr. 3 Tedious. Sax. 4 Since, afterwards. Damasked? (Pink. Gloss.) Ornicle, in La Combe's

Of venison he had his wale;'
Good aqua-vitæ, wine, and ale;
With noble comfits, brawn and jell:2
And so the squyer fuir 3 right well.

So, to hear more of his narration,
This lady came to his collation;
Saying he was right welcome hame.4
"Grandmerci then (quoth he) Madam.”
They past the time with chess and table,
(For he to every game was able)
Then unto bed drew every wight.
To chamber went this lady bright,
The which this squyer did convoy:
Sen, to his bed he went with joy.

That night he sleeped never a wink,
But still did on the lady think, &c.

The adventure which follows, nearly resembles

Dict. du Vieux Lang. is interpreted "sorte d'etoffe fort "riche;" and linen imitating the patterns of such stuff, might be called travail d'ornicle. In Dutch, doornick is the name for tournay; the word, therefore, may be synonimous with Flemish linen.

Choice. Ruddiman's Gloss. a Fared.

2

Jelly.

4 Home.

that of Dido and Æneas; but Lindsay, though more circumstantial, is less delicate than Virgil in relating the good fortune of his hero; which is the more to be lamented, because his description contains some curious particulars respecting the customs and fashions of the age.

Sir David Lindsay has enumerated no less than seven contemporary poets, of whom, however, we have no remains, excepting three pieces composed by one of the Stewarts, and inserted in p. 146, 148, and 151, of lord Hailes's extracts from the Bannatyne MSS. They are principally remarkable for the freedom with which they censure the conduct of king James V.

But the finest specimen of Scotch poetry, during this period, is a piece which is quoted by Mr. Tyrwhitt, from the Maitland MSS. under the title of the "Mourning Maiden," and printed by Mr. Pinkerton. (Anc. Scot. Poems, 1786, p. 205.) The Mourning Maiden.

Still under the leavis green,

This hinder day I went alone;

2

I heard a may1 sore mourn, and meyn;
To the king of love she made her moan.

• Virgin. Sax.

2

Moan, complain.

She sighed sely1 sore;

Said, "Lord, I love thy lore,

"More woe dreit 2 never woman one. "O langsum life! an thou were gone, "Then should I mourn no more!"

As red gold wire shined her hair,
And all in green the may she glaid;
A bent bow in her hand she bare,

Under her belt were arrows braid.4

I followed on that free,5

That seemly was to see,

With still mourning her moan she made,

That bird under a bank she bade

And leaned to a tree.

"Wan-weird!"7 she said," what have I wrought,

8

"That on me kyth has all this care?

"True love, so dear I have thee bought! "Certes, so shall I do no mair,

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