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Directions for Cultivating a Hop-garden.

SCOTTISH POETS. Whom fancy persuadeth, among other crops,

The difference between the English and Scottish To have for his spending sufficient of hops, languages had now become decided. In Barbour Must willingly follow, of choices to choose,

and Wyntoun, the variation is very slight; but Such lessons approved, as skilful do use.

before nother century had elapsed, the northern

dialect was a separate and independent speech. Ground gravelly, sandy, and mixed with clay,

This distinction had probably existed long before Is naughty for hops, any manner of way.

in the spoken language of the people ; but it was Or if it be mingled with rubbish and stone, For dryness and barrenness let it alone.

only developed in poetry in the writings of Henryson, Dunbar, and Lyndsay. The Anglo-Saxon

element predominated in the north, and it was Choose soil for the hop of the rottenest mould, proved to be not unfitted for the higher purposes Well dunged and wrought, as a garden-plot should ; of poetry. Dunbar is a vigorous imaginative poet, Not far from the water, but not overflown,

greater than any that had appeared since the days This lesson, well noted, is meet to be known.

of Chaucer, and only wanting a little more chival

rous feeling and a finer tone of humanity to rival The sun in the south, or else southly and west, the father of English verse. Is joy to the hop, as a welcomed guest; But wind in the north, or else northerly east, To the hop is as ill as a fay in a feast.

JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND.

This chivalrous Scottish prince was born in 1394Meet plot for a hop-yard once found as is told,

In order to save him from the unscrupulous hands Make thereof account, as of jewel of gold ;

of his uncle, the Duke of Albany, James was Now dig it, and leave it, the sun for to burn,

privately despatched to the court of Charles VI. And afterwards fence it, to serve for that turn.

of France, but the vessel in which he embarked

was seized off the coast of Norfolk, and the young The hop for his profit I thus do exalt,

prince, then in his eleventh year, was forcibly It strengtheneth drink, and it favoureth malt;

detained by Henry IV. of England. This act of And being well brewed, long kept it will last, And drawing abide-if ye draw not too fast.

gross injustice completed the calamities of the infirm and imbecile King Robert III. of Scotland, who sank under the blow, and it led to the cap

tivity of James for more than eighteen years. Housewifdy Physic.

Henry, however, furnished the captive prince with Good huswife provides, ere a sickness do come,

liberal means of instruction. In all the learning Of sundry good things in her house to have some.

and polite accomplishments of the English court Good Aqua composita, and vinegar tart,

he became a proficient, excelling not only in Rose-water, and treacle, to comfort thine heart. knightly and athletic exercises, but in the science Cold herbs in her garden, for agues that burn, of music and in acquaintance with the classic and That over-strong heat to good temper may turn. romantic poets. Chaucer and Gower he studied White endive, and succory, with spinach enow; closely. Original composition followed ; and there All such with good pot-herbs, should follow the plough. are few finer strains than those with which James Get water of fumitory, liver to cool,

soothed his hours of solitary restraint within And others the like, or else lie like a fool.

Windsor Tower. His description of the small Conserves of barbary, quinces, and such,

garden which lay before his chamber windowWith syrups, that easeth the sickly so much.

once the moat of the Tower—and the first glimpse Ask Medicus' counsel, ere medicine ye take,

he there obtained of his future queen, the Lady And honour that man for necessity's sake. Though thousands hate physic, because of the cost,

Joan Beaufort, form a beautiful and touching Yet thousands it helpeth, that else should be lost,

episode in our literary annals. James obtained Good broth, and good keeping, do much now and then: his release, married the Lady Joan in February Good diet, with wisdom, best comforteth man. 1424, and in May of the same year was crowned In health, to be stirring shall profit thee best; king of Scotland-the most accomplished prince In sickness, hate trouble ; seek quiet and rest. of his age, to rule over a turbulent and disRemember thy soul ; let no fancy prevail

tracted country.

He set himself vigorously to Make ready to God-ward ; let faith never quail : reduce the power of the profligate nobles, and to The sooner thyself thou submittest to God,

insure the faithful administration of justice, resolvThe sooner he ceaseth to scourge with his rod.

ing, as he said, that the key should keep the castle, and the bush secure the cow. The senti

ment was worthy a prince ; but James pursued Moral Reflections on the Wind.

his measures, in some instances, too far, and

clouded the aspect of justice with ineffaceable Though winds do rage, as winds were wood,1

stains of cruelty and vengeance. A conspiracy And cause spring-tides to raise great flood;

was formed against him (the chief actor in which And lofty ships leave anchor in mud, Bereaving many of life and of blood;

was his uncle, Walter Stuart, Earl of Athole), Yet, true it is, as cow chews cud,

and he was assassinated at Perth, on the 20th of

February 1437
And trees, at spring, doth yield forth bud,
Except wind stands as never it stood,

The principal poem of James I. is entitled The It is an ill wind turns none to good.

King's Quhair, meaning the King's Quire, or Book.
Only one MS. of the poem (which extends to nearly

1400 lines) is extant, preserved in the Bodleian 38

1 Mad.

Library, Oxford, and was printed in 1783, edited by William Tytler, Lord Woodhouselee. The subject is the royal poet's love for Lady Joan Beaufort, described in the allegorical style of the age, in the manner of Chaucer, and with much fine description, sentiment, and poetical fancy. It places James high in the rank of romantic poets. Two humorous Scottish poems are also ascribed to him-Christis Kirk on the Grene, and Peblis to the Play, both descriptive of rustic sports and pastimes, and the former ridiculing the Scottish want of skill in archery. They are excellent though coarse, humorous poems. The claim of James to the authorship of either has, however, been disputed, though it seems supported—at least in the case of Christis Kirk on the Greneby good testimony. The style has certainly a more modern cast than would be looked for, but no claimant more probable than James I. has yet been named ; and Sir Walter Scott-as well as Tytler and others—unhesitatingly ascribes Christis Kirk on the Grene to the royal poet. In the following quotation, and subsequent extracts, the spelling is inodernised :

James I. a Prisoner in Windsor, first sees Lady Joan

Beaufort, who afterwards was his Queen.
Bewailing in my chamber, thus alone,
Despaired of all joy and remedy,
For-tired of my thought, and woe-begone,
And to the window gan I walk in hy?
To see the world and folk that went forbye, 2
As, for the time, though I of mirthis food
Might have no more, to look it did me good.
Now was there made, fast by the Towris wall,
A garden fair; and in the corners set
Ane arbour green, with wandis long and small
Railed about, and so with trees set
Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet,
That lyf was none walking there forbye,
That might within scarce any wight espy,
So thick the boughis and the leavis green
Beshaded all the alleys that there were,
And mids of every arbour might be seen
The sharpe greene sweete juniper,
Growing so fair with branches here and there,
That as it seemed to a lyf without,
The boughis spread the arbour all about.
And on the smalle greene twistis 3 sat,
The little sweete nightingale, and sung
So loud and clear, the hymnis consecrat
Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among,
That all the gardens and the wallis rung
Right of their song.
... Cast I down mine eyes again,
Where as I saw, walking under the Tower,
Full secretly, new comen here to plain,
The fairest or the freshest young flower
That ever I saw, methought, before that hour,
For which sudden abate, anon astart,
The blood of all my body to my heart.
And though I stood abasit tho a lite,5
No wonder was; for why? my wittis all
Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight,
Only through letting of my eyen fall,
That suddenly my heart became her thrall,
For ever of free will—for of menace

There was no token in her sweete face. 1 Haste.

9 Past.

3 Twigs. 4 Went and came.

5 Confounded for a little while.

And in my head I drew right hastily,
And estesoons I leant it out again,
And saw her walk that very womanly,
With no wight mo', but only women twain.
Then gan I study in myself, and sayn :1
“Ah, sweet ! are ye a worldly creature,
Or heavenly thing in likeness of nature ?
Or are ye god Cupidis own princess,
And comin are to loose me out of band?
Or are ye very Nature the goddess,
That have depainted with your heavenly hand,
This garden full of flowers as they stand ?
What shall I think, alas ! what reverence
Shall I mister 2 unto your excellence ?
'If ye a goddess be, and that ye like
To do me pain, I may it not astart :3
If ye be warldly wight, that doth me sike,
Why list 5 God make you so, my dearest heart,
To do a seely 6 prisoner this smart,
That loves you all, and wot of nought but woe?
And therefore mercy, sweet ! sin' it is so.'
Of her array the form if I shall write,
Towards her golden hair and rich attire,
In fretwise couchit? with pearlis white
And great balas 8 leaming as the fire,
Withmony ane emeraut and fair sapphire ;
And on her head a chaplet fresh of hue,
Of plumis parted red, and white, and blue.
Full of quaking spangis bright as gold,
Forged of shape like to the amorets,
So new, so fresh, so pleasant to behold,
The plumis eke like to the flower jonets, 10
And other of shape, like to the flower jonets ;
And above all this, there was, well I wot,
Beauty enough to make a world to dote.
About her neck, white as the fire amail,11
A goodly chain of small orfevory, 12
Whereby there hung a ruby, without fail,
Like to ane heart shapen verily,
That as a spark of low,13 so wantonly
Seemed burning upon her white throat,
Now if there was good party, 14 God it wot.
And for to walk that fresh May's morrow,
Ane hook she had upon her tissue white,
That goodlier had not been seen to-forow,15
As I suppose ; and girt she was alite, 16
Thus haldings loose for haste, to such delight
It was to see her youth in goodlihede,
That for rudeness to speak thereof I dread.
In her was youth, beauty, with humble aport,
Bounty, richess, and womanly feature,
God better wot than my pen can report :
Wisdom, largess, estate, and cunning 17 sure,
In every point so guided her measure,
In word, in deed, in shape, in countenance,
That Nature might no more her child avance ! .
And when she walked had a little thraw
Under the sweete greene boughis bent,
Her fair fresh face, as white as any snaw,
She turned has, and furth her wayis went ;
But tho began mine aches and torment,
To see her part and follow I na might;
Methought the day was turned into night.
2 Minister.

4 Makes me sigh. 5 Pleased.

7 Inlaid like fret-work. 8 A kind of precious stone.

9 Glittering. 10 A kind of lily. It is conjectured that the royal poet may here allude covertly to the name of his mistress, which, in the diminutive, was Janet or Jonet.Thomson's Edition of King's Quhair (Ayr, 1824). 12 Gold-work.

13 Flame.

14 Match. 16 Slightly.

17 Knowledge.

1 Say.

3 Fly.

6 Wretched.

11 Enamel. 15 Before.

39

Full gay,

Of the lighter poems of King James, we subjoin his strong arm and terrible sword, and delighting a specimen. The following are the opening in the sufferings of his enemies. In the following stanzas of Christ's Kirk of the Green:

passage, we have this relentless spirit blazing

forth :
Was never in Scotland heard nor seen
Sic dancing nor deray,

Storming of Dunnottar Castle.
Nouther at Falkland on the Green,
Nor Peebliss at the Play,2

Wallace on fire gart set all hastily,
As was of wooers, as I ween,

Brunt up the kirk, and all that was therein.
At Christ's Kirk on ane day :

Attour the rock the lave ran with great din.
There came our Kittys, washen clean,

Some hang on crags right dolefully to dee,
In their new kirtles of gray,

Some lap, some fell, some flottered on the sea.

Na Southeron in life was leaved in that hauld, At Christ's Kirk of the Green that day.

And them within they brunt in powder cauld.

When this was done feillo fell on kneeis down,
To dance thir damsellis them dight,

At the bishop asked absolution.
Thir lasses light of laits,

Then Wallace leuch, said: 'I forgive you all ;
Their gloves were of the raffel right,

Are ye war men repentis for sae small ?
Their shoon were of the Straits,

They rued nocht us into the town of Ayr;
Their kirtles were of Lincoln light,

Our true barons when that they hangit there.'
Weel prest with many plaits.
They were so nice when men them nicht,
They squealit like ony gaits?

Some of the incidents in Harry's narrative are
Sa loud

so palpably absurd (such as the siege of York, the At Christ's Kirk of the Green that day.

visit of the queen of England to Wallace's camp

with her offer of £3000 in gold, and the combats Of all thir maidens mild as mead,

of Wallace with the French champions and the Was nane so jimp as Gillie,

lion), that they could never have been intended to As ony rose her rood 8 was red,

be received as matters of real history. That WalHer lyre was like the lily.

lace was in France, however, has been confirmed Fu' yellow, yellow was her head, But she of love was silly ;

by the discovery of authentic evidence. All the Though all her kin had sworn her dead,

editors conclude that as Harry could not himself, She would have but sweet Willie

from his blindness, have written out the work, it Alane

may have suffered greatly from amanuenses or At Christ's Kirk of the Green that day.

transcribers; but they have not attended to dates. The only manuscript of the work which exists is

dated 1488, and was written by that careful but BLIND HARRY.

obscure scribe, John Ramsay, who also transcribed

Barbour's Bruce. The blind minstrel was in The Adventures of Sir William Wallace, written existence four years after the date of Ramsay's about 1460, by a wandering poet usually called manuscript, as we know from the treasurer's books BLIND HARRY, enjoyed great popularity up to our of the reign of James IV.; and Ramsay had most own time. Of the author, nothing is known but that likely the benefit of the author's revision-perhaps he was blind from his infancy; that he wrote this took it down from his recitation. Few copies poem, and made a living by reciting it, or parts of would be made of a poem extending to 11,858 it, before company. It is said by himself to be lines, and this fact shews how enthusiastic and founded on a narrative of the life of Wallace, gifted must have been the blind bard who could written in Latin by Arnold Blair, chaplain to the compose and retain in his memory a poem of such Scottish hero, and which, if it ever existed, is now length, and so various in its incidents and delost. The chief materials, however, have evidently scriptions. The poem is in ten-syllable lines, the been the traditionary stories told respecting Wal- epic verse of a later age, and it is not deficient in lace in the minstrel's own time, which was a century poetical effect or elevated sentiment. A vulgar and a half subsequent to that of the hero. In paraphrase of it into modern Scotch, by William this respect, The Wallace resembles The Bruce; Hamilton of Gilbertfield, has long been a favourite but the longer time which had elapsed, the un- volume amongst the Scottish peasantry: it was lettered character of the author, and the compara- the study of this book which had so great an effect tive humility of the class from whom he would in kindling the patriotic ardour and genius of chiefly derive his facts, made it inevitable that the Burns. work should be much less of a historical document As a specimen of the original orthography, we than that of the learned archdeacon of Aberdeen. subjoin a few of the opening lines of the poem : It is, in reality, such an account of Wallace as might be expected of Montrose or Dundee from

Our antecessouris, that we suld of reide, some unlettered but ingenious poet of the present

And hald in mynde thar nobille worthi deide, day, who should consult only Highland tradition

We lat ourslide, throw werray sleuthfulnes; for his authority. Harry's Wallace is a merciless And castis ws euir till vthir besynes. champion, for ever hewing down the English with Till honour ennymys is our haile entent,

It has beyne seyne in thir tymys bywent ; 1 Merriment, disorder (from the French derayer).

Our ald ennymys, cummyn of Saxonys blud, 2 At Falkland and Peebles, archery and other games took That neuyr yeit to Scotland wald do gud, place. 3 Light of manners.

Bot euir on fors, and contrar haile thair will 4 Supposed to be from ra or rae, a roc dcer, and fell, a skin. 5 Shoes of morocco leather from the Straits.

Quhow gret kyndnes thar has beyne kyth thaim till. 6 Came nigh them. 8 Those parts of the face which in youth and health have a ruddy colour.- Jamieson.

9 Flesh, skin (Ang.-Sax, lira). 1 The rest, the remainder. Many (Ang.-Sax. frala).

7 Goats.

This day for me, in faith, he bees not sought.'
When Wallace thus this worthy wark had wrought,
Their horse he took, and gear that left was there,
Gave ower that craft, he yede to fish nae mair.
Went till his eme, and tald him of this deed,
And he for woe well near worthit to weid,
And said : 'Son, thir tidings sits me sore,
And, be it known, thou may tak scaith therefore.'
Uncle,' he said, 'I will no langer bide,
Thir southland horse let see gif I can ride.'
Then but a child, him service for to mak,
His eme's sons he wald not with him tạk.
This gude knight said : 'Dear cousin, pray I thee,
When thou wants gude, come fetch eneuch frae me.'
Silver and gold he gart on him give,
Wallace inclines, and gudely took his leave.

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Adventure of Wallace while Fishing in Irvine Water. Wallace, near the commencement of his career, is living in hiding with his uncle, Sir Ranald Wallace of Riccarton, near Kilmarnock. To amuse himself, he goes to fish in the river Irvine, when the following adventure takes place:

So on a time he desired to play.
In Aperil the three-and-twenty day,
Till Irvine water fish to tak he went;
Sic fantasy fell into his intent.
To lead his net a child furth with him yede ;?
But he, or” noon, was in a felon dread.'
His swerd he left, so did he never again ;
It did him gude, suppose he suffered pain.
Of that labour as than he was not slie:
Happy he was, took fish abundantly.
Or of the day ten hours o'er couth pass.
Ridand there came, near by where Wallace was,
The Lord Percy, was captain then of Ayr;
Frae then' he turned, and couth to Glasgow fare.3
Part of the court had Wallace' labour seen,
Till him rade five, clad into ganand green,
And said soon : Scot, Martin's fish we wald have !'
Wallace meekly again answer him gave.
'It were reason, methink, ye should have part,
Waith should be dealt, in all place, with free heart.'
He bade his child, 'Give them of our waithing.'
The Southron said: 'As now of thy dealing
We will not tak; thou wald give us o'er small.'
He lighted down and frae the child took all.
Wallace said then : 'Gentlemen gif ye be,
Leave us some part, we pray for charity.
Ane aged knight serves our lady to-day :
Gude friend, leave part, and tak not all away.'
'Thou shall have leave to fish, and tak thee mae,
All this forsooth shall in our flitting gae.
We serve a lord; this fish shall till him gang.'
Wallace answered, said : “Thou art in the wrang.'

Wham thous thou, Scot? in faith thou 'serves a blaw.'
Till him he ran, and out a swerd can draw.
William was wae he had nae wappins there
But the poutstaff, the whilk in hand he bare.
Wallace with it fast on the cheek him took,
With sae gude will, while of his feet he shook.
The swerd flew frae him a fur-breid on the land.
Wallace was glad, and hint it soon in hand ;
And with the swerd awkward he him gave
Under the hat, his creigin sunder drave.
By that the lave lighted about Wallace,
He had no help, only but God's grace.
On either side full fast on him they dang,
Great peril was gif they had lasted lang.
Upon the head in great ire he strak ane ;
The shearand swerd glade to the collar bane.
Ane other on the arm he hit so hardily,
While hand and swerd baith in the field can lie.
The tother twa fled to their horse again ;
He stickit him was last upon the plain.
Three slew he there, twa filed with all their might
After their lord; but he was out of sight,
Takand the muir, or he and they couth twine.
Till him they rade anon, or they wald blin,?
And cryit: 'Lord, abide; your men are martyred down
Right cruelly, here in this false region.
Five of our court here at the water bade, 8
Fish for to bring, though it nae profit made.
We are scaped, but in field slain are three.'
The lord speirit :' 'How mony might they be?'
We saw but ane that has discomfist us all.'
Then leugh 10 he loud, and said : 'Foul mot you fall !
Sin' ane you all has put to confusion.
Wha meins it maist the devil of hell him drown !
1 Went.

In the Gask Hall their lodging have they ta'en ;
Fire gat they soon, but meat then had they nane.
Twa sheep they took beside them aff a fauld,
Ordained to sup into that seemly hauld,
Graithed ? in haste some food for them to dicht,
So heard they blaw rude hornis upon heicht.
Twa sent he forth to look what it micht be ;
They bade richt lang, and no tidings heard he,
But bousteous noise so brimly blew and fast
So other twa into the wood furth passed.
Nane came again, but bouteously gan blaw;
Into great ire he sent them furth on raw.3
When he alane Wallace was leaved there,
The awful blast abounded meikle mair.
Then trowed he weel they had his lodging seen;
His sword he drew, of noble metal keen;
Syne furth he went whereat he heard the horn ;
Without the door Fawdoun was him beforn,
As till his sight, his awn head in his hand ;
A cross he made, when he saw him so stand.
At Wallace in the head he swaket there ;*
And he in haste soon hints [it] by the hair,
Syne out again at him he could it cast;
Intill his heart he was greatly aghast.
Right weel he trowed that was no sprite of man !
It was some devil, at sic malice began.
He wist no weel there langer for to bide,
Up through the hall thus wight Wallace gan glide
Till a close stair ; the boardis rave in twyne,
Fifteen feet large he lap out of that in ;?
Up the water suddenly he could fare,
Again he blent what 'pearance he saw there;
Him thocht he saw Fawdoun that ugly squire ;0
That hail Hall he had sent in a fire ;
A great rafter he had intill his hand.
Wallace as then no longer would he stand,
Of his gude men full great marvel had he,
How they were through his feil 10 fantasy!
Traists richt weel all this was sooth indeed,
Suppose that it no point be of the creed,
Power they had with Lucifer that fell
The time when he parted frae heaven to hell.
By sic mischief gif his men might be lost,
Drownit or slain amang the English host;

1 Nearly went mad. 2 Equipped, made ready. 3 In row or rank. * Cast forcibly there. 8 Hint, hynt, or hent, laid hold of. 6 In twain, asunder.

7 In, or innys, a dwelling (Ang:-Sax.). Barbour has in signifying the tents of an army on the field.

8 Glanced.
9 In the original, 'hugly sir.'
10 Very; denoting degree.

41

Ere. 2 He was on his way from Ayr to Glasgow. * Spoil taken in sport.

6 Rest. 7 Ere they would stop.

8 Tarried. 9 Inquired. 10 Laughed.

3 Neck.

Or what it was in likeness of Fawdoun,

Robin sat on gude green hill, Whilk brocht his men to sudden confusion;

Keepand a flock of fe :1 Or if the man ended in evil intent,

Merry Makyne said him till: Some wicked spreit again for him present,

'Robin, thou rue on me; I can not speak of sic divinity;

I have thee lovit loud and still
To clerks I will let all sic matters be.

Thir years two or three ;
My dule in dern but gif thou dill,?

Doubtless but dreid I de.'
HOLLAND-HENRYSON.

Robin answered : 'By the Rood,
Among the minor yet popular poets about the

Na thing of love I knaw, middle of the fifteenth century, was HOLLAND,

But keepis my sheep under yon wude, author of The Buke of the Howlat (owl), an

Lo! where they rake on raw :3 allegorical poem, containing an exhibition of What has marred thee in thy mood, the feathered tribes under a great variety of

Makyne to me thou shaw? civil and ecclesiastical characters, to which is

Or what is love, or to be lo'ed, added a digression on the arms and exploits of

Fain wad I lear that law.' the Douglases. Nothing is known of the author --not even his Christian name ; but Mr David Makyne explained and pleaded, but her advocacy Laing, editor of the Howlat, supposes the poet to

was out of tune : have been Sir Richard Holland, a priest, one of Robin on his wayis went, the followers of the exiled family of Douglas.

As licht as leaf of tree; The poem appears to have been written about Makyne mourned in her intent, 1453 at Ternoway (now Darnaway), on the banks

And trowed him never to see. of the Findhorn, the seat of the Earls of Moray ;

Robin brayed attour the bent, and it was composed to please the Countess of

Then Makyne cryed on hie : Moray, dowit, or wedded, to a Douglas. The

*Now thou may sing, for I am shent,

What aileth love with me?' story is taken from the fable of the jackdaw with borrowed feathers. It is but a very mediocre The tables, however, are soon turned. Robin alliterative production.

grew sick as Makyne grew well, and then she had There are other alliterative Scottish poems of the malicious satisfaction of rejecting him. This the beginning and middle of the fifteenth cen- is the old story with the old moral, which, though tury—as the Tale of Rauf Coilzear, alluded to pastoral poetry has long been dead, will never by Dunbar and Gavin Douglas ; the Awntyrs become obsolete. We subjoin part of the fable of of Arthure, Orfeo and Heurodis, &c. A selection the Town and Country Mouse, called by the poet of these early pieces, twenty-five in number, all The Uplandis Mous and the Burges Mous: from sources anterior to the close of the sixteenth century, was published by Mr Laing in 1822, with the title of Select Remains of Ancient Popular

Extract from the Town and Country Mousc. Poetry of Scotland.

With treaty fair at last sho gart her rise ; But far surpassing these early and obscure To board they went, and down together sat, worshippers of the native Muse, was Master

But scantly had they drunken anes or twice,

When in cam Gib Hunter, our jolly cat, ROBERT HENRYSON, a moral poet, in character

And bade God speed. The burgess up then gat, not unlike the English poet Daniel-gentle, medi

And till her hole she fled like fire frae flint; tative, and observant. Of Henryson there are

Bawdrons the other by the back has hent. no personal memorials, except that he was chief schoolmaster at Dunfermline-perhaps, as Lord Frae foot to foot he cast her to and frae, Hailes suggests, preceptor in the Benedictine con

While up, while down, as cant as ony kid ; vent there-and that he was admitted a member While wald he let her run beneath the strae, of the university of Glasgow in 1462, being de- While wald he wink and play with her buik-hid ; scribed as the Venerable Master Robert Henry- Thus to the silly mouse great harm he did : sone, licentiate in arts, and bachelor in decrees.' While at the last, through fair fortune and hap, Mr Laing, who has edited the works of Henryson

Betwixt the dresser and the wall she crap.' (Edinburgh, 1865), places the time of his decease towards the close of the century, when he was

Syne up in haste behind the panneling,

Sae hie sho clam, that Gibby might not get her, probably about seventy years of age. The prin

And by the cluiks craftily can hing, cipal works of Henryson are: Moral Fables of

Till he was gane, her cheer was all the better : Æsop, thirteen in number, with two prologues ; Syne down sho lap, when there was nane to let' her; Robene and Makyne, a pastoral; Orpheus and

Then on the burgess mous loud couth sho cry: Eurydice, and The Testament of Cresseide, being 'Fareweel, sister, here I thy feast defy. a sequel to Chaucer's Troilus and Cressida. The last of these poems is the most important, but the 'Thy mangery is minget 5 all with care ; pastoral of Robene and Makyne is believed to be the Thy guise is gude, thy gane-full sour as gall ; earliest production of the kind in our national The fashion of thy feris is but fair, poetry. It is a simple love dialogue between a shep

So shall thou find hereafterward may fall. herd and shepherdess. The old stock properties

I thank yon curtain, and yon parpane wall, of the pastoral—the pipe and crook, the hanging

Of my defence now frae yon cruel beast; grapes, spreading beech, and celestial purity of

Almighty God, keep me fra sic a feast ! the golden age-find no place in the northern pastoral. Henryson's Robin sits on a good green : My grief in secret unless thou share. Chaucer has derne lose

3 Range in a row. hill keeping his flock, and is most ungallantly (Ang:-Sax. dyrn, secret). insensible to the advances of Makyne :

4 To hinder her; hence the phrase without let or hinderance.' 5 Mingled.

6 Companionship, or friendship.

i Sheep.

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