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«<1 
 
MEDIEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY 
 
Published by 
 William Hodge & Co., Glasgow 
 
 Williams & Norgate, London and Edinburgh 
 
abbotsfor^ Series 
 
 ot tbc 
 
 Scottisb poets 
 
 Edited by GEORGE EYRE-TODD 
 
 MEDIEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY 
 
 KING JAMES THE EIRST 
 ROBERT HENRYSON 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS 
 
 Glasgow: WILLIAM HODGE & CO 
 1892 
 
fR 
 
 
 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. 
 
 £. i 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MEDiiiiVAL Scottish Poetry, . 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 King James the First, 
 
 
 
 
 7 
 
 The Kingis Qimir, . 
 
 
 
 
 25 
 
 Good Counsel, . . . . 
 
 
 
 
 75 
 
 Robert Henryson, . 
 
 
 
 
 n 
 
 Robene and Makyne, 
 
 
 
 
 91 
 
 The Garmond of Gude I.adeis, 
 
 
 
 
 96 
 
 The Abbay Walk, 
 
 
 
 
 98 
 
 The Prais of Aige, 
 
 
 
 
 lOI 
 
 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 
 
VIU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Lament for the Makaris, 
 
 The Dance of the Sevin Deidly Synnis, 
 
 Amendis to the Telyouris and Sowtaris, 
 
 The Fenyeit Freir of Tungland, 
 
 The Ladyis Solistaris, 
 
 Discretioun in Asking, 
 
 The Petition of the Gray Horse, Aiild 
 
 Best to be Blyth, . 
 
 Meditatioun in Wyntir, 
 
 Gavin Douglas, . 
 Honour, . 
 King Hart, 
 Dido's Hunting Party, 
 Winter, . 
 
 Morning in May, . 
 Evening and Morning in June, 
 
 Dunbar, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 187 
 192 
 197 
 199 
 
 204 
 206 
 208 
 211 
 213 
 
 215 
 
 23s 
 237 
 244 
 249 
 
 255 
 266 
 
MEDI/EVAL 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 Scottish 
 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 
 influence 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 began to throb new 
 
 B II 
 
2 MEDIAEVAL 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 French Revolution, and finding early 
 expression 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 
 
MEDIMVAL 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-time, 
 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 tii-ne 
 of Pericles, Rome her Augustan age, Later 
 Italy her Renaissance, England her reign of 
 Elizabeth. A regular likeness may be noticed 
 
4 MEDIAEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY. 
 
 in the circumstances of all these periods. When 
 a Philosophy of History, Aristotle's ambitious 
 dream, 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 
 arms, and wealth floats in upon a flowing 
 tide, the national genius of poetry and art 
 breaks into splendid fire. 
 
 Scotland reached 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 Ceesar 
 inherited the wealth of the dead Julius ; and, 
 like Augustus, the Scottish king sought by all 
 available means to encourage the arts of 
 civilization 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 
 
 * 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. Bergenrotli (1862-8). See also for 
 a view of the reign an interesting little volume, The Days of 
 Javies IV., arranged in extracts from contemporary writers by G. 
 Gregory Smith, M.A., 1890. 
 
6 MEDIjEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY. 
 
 had 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 Canmore 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 peace in 
 Scotland. 
 
KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 With James I. there appeared in Scottish history at 
 once the genius which inspired and the tragedy which 
 haunted the ill-starred Stewart race. His grandfather, 
 Robert II., had not lacked energy in his youth. 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 unfitted 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 
 
lo 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, 
 1394. 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 seized 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. ii 
 
 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 
 returning 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 recognized 
 in the outer isles of Scotland. The story is one of 
 the last told by Wyntoun. A baron's daughter of 
 Ireland, who had seen Richard in that country, and 
 had married a brother of the Lord of the Isles, 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 his 
 
12 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 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 Flamborough 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 
 exploiting of the claims of Richard H. 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, 
 his studies were ably supervised by Sir John Pelham, 
 and full opportunity was afforded him of attaining 
 perfection 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 
 
 142 1, 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 Jane 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 possessions 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 
 
14 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 ;^4o,ooo 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 I St 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 accomplishments, 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 JAMES 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 earhest 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, the 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 less 
 prompt in action Scotland could scarcely have escaped 
 the horrors of civil war. As it was, his resolution 
 
i6 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 Macdonald, 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 
 growth 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 Hcense 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, whose 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 
 
l8 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 
 sHppers, 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 w^ay, 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 remained 
 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 time, 
 
KING JAMES 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 Kingis Quair, 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 Quair is in Chaucer's seven-line stanza, 1 
 called from this use of it Rime 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 and 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 
 Gower 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 Ki?tgis 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 hstened 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 Kingis 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 more 
 delicately or with subtler artistic touch ; no poet has 
 
KING JAMES THE FIRST. 21 
 
 given a more exquisite impression of the sweet awe 
 and loveliness of womanhood. 
 
 As it stands, The Kingis 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. James 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 
 Glide arid Godlie Ballates of 1578, and in Arte com- 
 pentiovs Booke of godly arid spiritual Songs, 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's 
 Xirk — 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 Song on Absence beginning : 
 
 Sen that [the] eyne that workis my weilfare 
 Dois no moir on me glance ; 
 
 and the well-known Peblis to the Flay, which begins 
 
 with : 
 
 At Beltane quhen ilk bodie bownis 
 To Peblis to the Play. 
 
 Of Chrisfs Kirk on the Green, printed in the same 
 collection, the only suggestion of James' authorship is 
 Bannatyne's note. 
 
 Against the authenticity of the Song on Absence and 
 Peblis to the Play is remarked the slightness 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 Chrisfs Kirk on the Green 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 with Chrisfs 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 Peblis to the Play and of Christ's Kirk are exactly 
 the same as those of The Gaberhmzieman^ 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 Greeti 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 OUAIR. 
 
 Maid be King lames of Scotland the First quhen his Maiestie 
 wes in Ingland. 
 
 ]EIGH in the hevjuinis figure circulerc 
 
 The rody sterres twynklyng as the fyre ; 
 And, in Aquary, Cynthia' the clere « MS. cithcrea. 
 
 Rynsid hir tressis hke the goldin 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 partit out of slepe a lyte tofore ^ 
 
 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 tho^ coude I no better wyle, 
 
 Bot toke a boke to rede apon a quhile : 
 
 = a little before. 
 
 3 then. 
 
 Off quhich the name is clepit^ properly 4 called. 
 
 Boece, eftere him that was the compiloure, 
 Schewing [the] counsele of philosophye, 
 
 Compilit by that noble senatoure 
 
 Off Rome, quhilom^ that was the warldis floure, s formerly. 
 And from estate by fortune a quhile 
 Foriugit* was to pouert' in exile: 'povmr''"' 
 
26 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 ' Describing. 
 
 2 poetic narra- 
 
 tive. 
 
 3 began. 
 
 And there to here this worthy lord and clerk, 
 His metir suete, full of moralitee ; 
 
 His flourit pen so fair he set a-\verk, 
 Discryving' first of his prosperitee, 
 And out of that his infelicitee ; 
 
 And than how he, in his poetly report"", 
 
 In philosophy can^ him to confort. 
 
 4 though. For quhich, thoghf* I in purpose, at my boke, 
 
 s 'hat. "Yq borowe a slepe at thilke^ tyme began, 
 
 6 stopped. Qr 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, 
 
 7 true security. And in tham set his verray sekernesse'. 
 
 8 these uncertain, 
 
 MS. theire. 
 
 9 worthily. 
 
 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 is 
 Off thir vnsekir^ warldis appetitis ; 
 
 And so aworth' he takith his penance, 
 
 And of his vertew maid it suffisance : 
 
 10 rhetorically 
 
 culled. 
 
 11 skull, head. 
 
 12 tongue, 
 
 language. 
 
 With mony a noble resoun, as him likit, 
 Enditing in his faire Latyne tong. 
 
 So full of fruyte, and rethorikly pykit'°, 
 
 Quhich to declare my scole" is ouer yong ; 
 Therefore I lat him pas, and, in my tong'=, 
 
 Procede I will agayn to my sentence 
 
 Off my mater, and leue all incidence. 
 
THE KING IS 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 bot' ony tarying, 
 This matere new in my mynd rolling ; 
 
 This is to seyne", how that eche estate, 
 
 As Fortune lykith, thame will [oft] translate. 
 
 < without. 
 
 say. 
 
 For sothe it is, that, on hir tolter^ quhele, 
 Euery wight cleuerith in his staged 
 
 And failyng foting oft, quhen hir lest rele, 
 Sum vp, sum doune, is none estate nor age 
 Ensured, more the prynce than the page : 
 
 So vncouthly hir werdes^ sche deuidith, 
 
 Namly* in youth, that seildin ought prouidith. 
 
 3 unstable. 
 
 4 clambers in his 
 
 rank. 
 
 5 So strangely 
 
 her fates. 
 
 6 Especially. 
 
 Among thir^ thoughtis rolling to and fro, 
 Fell me to mynd of my fortune and vre^; 
 
 In tender' youth how sche was first my fo. 
 And eft' my frende, and how I gat recure 
 Off my distresse, and all myn auenture 
 
 I gan oure-hayle", that langer slepe ne rest 
 
 Ne myght I nat, so were my wittis wrest. 
 
 7 these. 
 
 8 chance. 
 
 9 afterwards. 
 
 10 overhaul. 
 
 For-wakit and for-walowit", thus musing, 
 Wery, forlyin'^ 1 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, quhat the befell." 
 
 " Sore waking 
 and sore toss- 
 ing. 
 
 «a tired with 
 
 lying. 
 
28 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 « then. 
 
 person. 
 
 3 maketh me 
 think so 
 foolishly. 
 
 4 began. 
 
 5 innocent. 
 
 6 crude. 
 
 7 liable. 
 
 8 stands. 
 
 9 guide. 
 
 10 helmless. 
 
 11 must hie to 
 
 harm. 
 
 " help. 
 
 Thoght I tho' to my-self, "Quhat may this be? 
 
 This is myn awin ymagynacioun ; 
 It is no lyf that spekis vnto me; 
 
 It is a bell, or that impressioun 
 
 Off my thoght causith this illusioun, 
 That dooth me think so nycely^ in this wise;" 
 And so befell as I schall you deuise. 
 
 Determyt furth therewith in myn entent, 
 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 ♦!-, and thus begouth" my buke. 
 
 Thou [sely]^ youth, of nature indegest*, 
 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 hable'; 
 Wist thou thy payne to cum and thy trauaille. 
 For sorow and drede wele myght thou wepe and 
 waille. 
 
 Thus stant*^ thy confort in vnsekernesse, 
 
 And wantis it that suld the reule and gye' : 
 
 Ryght as the schip that sailith stereles" 
 Vpon the rok[kis] most to harmes hye", 
 For lak of it that suld bene hir supplye''; 
 
 So standis thou here in this warldis rage. 
 
 And wantis that suld gyde all thy viage. 
 
THE KING IS QUA IK. 
 
 29 
 
 I mene this by my-self, as in partye' ; 
 
 Though nature gave me sufifisance in youth' 
 
 The rypenesse of resoun lak[it] I, 
 
 To gouerne with my will ; so lyte I couth \ 
 Quhen stereles to trauaile I begouth*, 
 
 Amang the wawis of this warld to driue; 
 
 And how the case, anone I will discriue. 
 
 « lament this 
 regarding 
 myself, as 
 participator. 
 
 2 sufficient reason 
 
 for a youth. 
 
 3 so little I could. 
 
 4 began. 
 
 With doutfuU hert, amang the rokkis blake, 
 
 My feble bote full fast to stere and rowe, 
 Helples allone, the wynter nyght I wake, 
 
 To wayte^ the wynd that furthward suld me throwe. s ascertain. 
 
 O empti saile! quhare is the wynd suld blowc 
 Me to the port, quhar gynneth all my game? 
 Help, Calyope, and wynd, in Marye name! 
 
 The rokkis clepe* I the prolixitee 
 
 Off doubtfulnesse' that doith^ my wittis pall 
 
 The lak of wynd is the deficultee 
 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 connyng^ though I bot lytill fynd. 
 
 At my begynnyng first I clepe and call 
 To yow, Cleo"°, and to yow, Polymye", 
 
 With Thesiphone", goddis and sistris all. 
 In nowmer ix., as bokis specifye; 
 In this processe my wilsum'^ wittis gye; 
 
 And with your bryght lanternis wele conuoye 
 
 My pen, to write my lurmcnt and my ioye! 
 
 6 name. 
 
 7 MS. doubil- 
 
 nesse. 
 " maketh. 
 
 9 skill. 
 
 ■o Clio, Muse of 
 
 Hi^tory. 
 ■ « Polyhymnia, 
 
 Muse of Song, 
 
 &c. 
 ■» Tisiphone, a 
 
 Fury mist. 
 
 peril, for a 
 
 Muse. 
 '1 wilful. 
 
30 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 1 spring. In vere', 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, 
 
 aCynthius. And Synthius^ [be]gynneth to aryse 
 
 3 morning. Heigh in the est, a morow^ soft and suete, 
 
 Vpward his course to driue in Ariete : 
 
 4 degrees exactly Passit mydday bot foure greis evin^ 
 
 (?■.<". one hour). i , • i • • i i_,. 
 
 MS. Passit bot Off lenth and brede his angel wingis bryght 
 
 midday. ... 
 
 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 thame and sprad ; 
 
 And, in thaire nature, thankit him for glad. 
 
 Noght fer passit the state of innocence, 
 
 5 i.e. nearly ten got Hcre about the nowmer of yeris thre^, 
 
 years old. 
 
 Were it causit throu hevinly influence 
 Off goddis will, or othir casualtee. 
 Can I noght say ; bot out of my contree, 
 By thaire avise that had of me the cure, 
 Be see to pas, tuke I myn auenture. 
 
 Puruait of all that was vs necessarye. 
 
 With wynd at will, vp airly by the morowe, 
 Streight vnto schip, no longere wold we tarye, 
 
 6 before. The way we tuke, the tyme I tald to-forowe^; 
 
 With mony " fare wele " and " Sanct lohne to 
 
 7 be your secu- borOWC' " 
 
 rity. 
 
 Off falowe and frende ; and thus with one assent 
 We pullit vp saile, and furth oure wayis went, 
 
THE KING IS QUA IK. 
 
 31 
 
 Vpon the wawis weltering to and fro, 
 
 So infortunate was vs that fremyt' day, 
 
 That maugre, 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 contree; 
 
 Fortune it schupe^ none othir wayis to be. 
 
 Quhare as in strayte ward and in strong prisoun, 
 So fer forth 3 of my lyf the heuy lyne. 
 
 Without confort, in sorowe abandoune, 
 The secund sistere lukit hath to twyne^ 
 Nere by the space of yeris twise nyne; 
 
 Till lupiter his merci list aduert^, 
 
 And send confort in relesche*^ 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 faille' 
 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 
 
 » unlucky. 
 
 3 destined. 
 
 3 far forward. 
 
 4 i.e. Lachesis, 
 
 spinner of life's 
 thread, has 
 seen to it to cut 
 in twain. 
 
 5 pleased to turn. 
 
 6 relief. 
 
 7 done ill to lose. 
 
 " every one. 
 
 The bird, the beste, the fisch eke in the see. 
 They lyve in fredome euerich^ in his kynd ; 
 
 And I a man, and lakkith libertee ; 
 
 Quhat schall I seyne', quhat resoun may I fynd,'^^)-- 
 That Fortune suld do so?" Thus in my mynd 
 
 My folk I wold argewe-", bot all for noght; .0 ,-..•. arg«e with. 
 
 Was none that myght, that on my peyncs rought. 
 
32 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 pain. 
 
 Than wold I say, "Gif God me had deuisit 
 
 To lyve my lyf in thraldome thus and pyne', 
 Quhat was the cause that he [me] more comprisit 
 '''■"'"• Than othir folk to lyve in suich ruyne^? 
 
 ^ '^'d'^her^'""^' ■"■ suffer allone amang the figuris nyne\ 
 
 numefaisf"'"''-'^"^ wofull wrecchc that to no wight may spede"*, 
 4 give help. ^j^(j yit Qf euery lyvis^ help hath nede." 
 
 S person's. ^ ^ 
 
 The long dayes and the nyghtis eke 
 
 I wold bewaille my fortune in this wise, 
 
 For quhich, agane distresse confort to seke, 
 My custum was on mornis for to ryse 
 Airly as day; O happy excercise! 
 
 By the come I to ioye out of turment. 
 
 Bot now to purpose of my first entent : — 
 
 6 Full weary. 
 
 7 MS. And to. 
 
 8 haste. 
 
 Bewailing in my chamber thus allone, 
 Despeired of all ioye and remedye, 
 
 For-tirit* of my thoght, and wo-begone, 
 Unto^ the wyndow gan I walk in hye^, 
 To se the warld and folk that went forby; 
 
 As for the tyme, though I of mirthis fude 
 
 Myght haue no more, to luke it did me gude. 
 
 9 shrubbery. 
 
 10 person. 
 
 11 past. 
 
 Now was there maid fast by the touris wall 
 A gardyn faire, and in the corneris set 
 
 Ane herbere' grene, with wandis long and small 
 Railit about; and so with treis set 
 Was all the place, and hawthorn hegis knet, 
 
 That lyf" was none walking there forby", 
 
 That myght within scarse ony wight aspye. 
 
THE KING IS qUAIR. 33 
 
 So thik the bewis' and the leues grene « iwughs. 
 
 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 twistis- sat = twigs. 
 
 The lytill suete nyghtingale, and song 
 
 So loud and clere, the ympnis^ consecrat 3 hymns. 
 
 Off lufis vse, now soft, now lowd among'', 4 at times. 
 
 That all the gardyng and the wallis rong 
 
 Rvght of thaire song and of the copill= next s couplet, ms. 
 
 •'° ° ' onthecopill. 
 
 Off thaire suete armony, and lo the text : 
 
 [Cantus.] 
 " 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 sonnc! 
 
 Awake for schame! that haue your hevynnis wonne, 
 And amorously lift vp your hedis all, 
 Thank Lufe that list'' you to his merci call." displeased. 
 
 Quhen thai this song had song a lytill thrawe', 7 space. 
 
 Thai stent^ a quhile, and therewith vnaffraid, » stopped. 
 As I beheld and kest myn eyne a-lawe', 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 sonnc, 
 And thankit Lufe, that had thaire makis'" wonnc. '"mates. 
 
 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 lyf 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 hst to counterfeten chere." 
 
 2 Afterwards. 
 
 3 make fast. 
 
 Eft' wald I think; "O 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 setten^ and vnbynd? 
 Hath he vpon oure hertis suich maistrye? 
 Or all this is bot feynyt fantasye ! 
 
 4 Since. 
 
 5 say. 
 
 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, 
 Sen'' him to serue he myght set my corage? 
 
 And gif he be noght so, than may I seyne^, 
 
 Quhat makis folk to iangill of him in veyne? 
 
 6 fit. 
 
 7 worthy. 
 
 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 hable^ me vnto his seruice digne^; 
 
 And euermore for to be one of tho 
 
 Him trewly for to serue in wele and wo. 
 
THE KING IS QUAIR. 
 
 35 
 
 And there-with kest I doune myn eye ageyne, 
 Quhare as I sawe, walking vnder the toure, 
 
 Full secretly, new cummyn hir to pleyne', 
 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. 
 
 ' play. 
 
 And though I stude abaisit tho a lyte', 
 No wonder was; for quhy, my wittis all 
 
 Were so ouercome with- plesance and delyte, 
 Onely throu latting of myn eyen fall, 
 That sudaynly my hert became hir thrall 
 
 For euer, of free wyll ; for of manace 
 
 There was no takyn^ in hir suete face. 
 
 2 then a little. 
 
 3 token. 
 
 And in my hede I drewe ryght hastily, 
 And eft-sones'' I lent it forth ageyne, 
 
 And sawe hir walk, that verray womanly. 
 
 With no wight mo, bot onely wommen tucync. 
 Than gan I studye in my-self, and seyne, 
 
 " A ! suete, ar ye a warldly creature, 
 
 Or hevinly thing in likenesse of nature? 
 
 4 soon after. 
 
 Or ar ye god Cupidis owin princesse. 
 
 And cummyn are to louse me out of band? 
 
 Or ar ye verray^ Nature the goddesse. 
 
 That haue depayntit with your hevinly hand 
 This gardyn full of flouris, as they stand? 
 
 Quhat sail I think, allace ! quhat reuerence 
 
 Sail I minister^ to your excellence? 
 
 5 truly. 
 
 <j MS. minster. 
 
36 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 Gif ye a goddesse be, and that ye like 
 I avoid. To do me payne, I may it noght astert'; 
 
 = makethmesigh. Qjf ye be warldly wight, that dooth me sike", 
 
 3 Why pleased. Quhy Icst^ God mak you so, my derrest hert, 
 
 4 innocent. To do a sely"* prisoner thus smert, 
 
 s knows. That lufis yow all, and wote^ of noght bot wo ? 
 
 And therefor, merci, suete ! sen it is so." 
 
 6 while. 
 
 Quhen I a lytill thrawe* had maid my moon, 
 Bewailling myn infortune and my chance, 
 
 Vnknawin how or quhat was best to doon, 
 So 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. 
 
 Ofif hir array the forme gif I sail write, 
 Toward hir goldin haire and rich atyre 
 
 7 trimmed. In frct-wise couchit^ [was] with perllis quhite 
 
 8 Baiassian _ And grcte balas lemyng*^ as the fyre, 
 
 rubies glowing. , . . , . 
 
 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, 
 9 forget-me-not(?) Forgit of schap like to the amorettis^. 
 
 So new, so fresch, so plesant to behold, 
 logreat St. John's, ^phg pluiiiys ekc like to the floure-ionettis'", 
 
 wort flower. '^ ■' 
 
 n "a sort of And othir of schap like to the [round crokettis]," 
 
 curled tuft." 
 
 MS. repeats And, abouc all this, there was, wele I wote, 
 
 " floure- 
 
 ionettis." Beautee eneuch to mak a world to dote. 
 
THE KING IS QUA IK. 
 
 37 
 
 About hir nek, quhite as the fyre aniaille", 
 A gudely cheyne of smale orfeuel•ye^ 
 
 Quhareby there hang a ruby, without faille, 
 Lyke to ane hert schapin verily, 
 That, as a sperk of lowe^ so wantonely 
 
 Semyt birnyng vpon hir quhyte throte ; 
 
 Now gif there was gud partye^ God it wote ! 
 
 And for to walk that fresche Mayes morowe, 
 Ane huke^ sche had vpon hir tissew^ quhite, 
 
 That gudeliare had noght bene sene toforowe^ 
 As I suppose ; and girt sche was a lyte. 
 Thus halflyng'' louse for haste, to suich delyte 
 
 It was to see hir youth in gudelihede. 
 
 That for rudenes to speke thereof I drede. 
 
 ■ enamel made 
 
 by fire. 
 3 gold work. 
 
 3 flame. 
 
 4 a good partner. 
 Fr. partie. 
 
 5 loose upper 
 
 dress. 
 
 6 thin under- 
 
 garment. 
 
 7 before. 
 
 s partly. 
 
 In hir was youth, beautee, with humble aport', 
 Bountee, richesse, and worn manly facture", 
 
 God better wote than my pen can report. 
 
 Wisedome, largesse, estate, and connyng" sure 
 In euery poynt so guydit hir mesure. 
 
 In word, in dede, in schap, in contenance, 
 
 That nature myght no more hir childe auance. 
 
 9 demeanour. 
 
 10 fashioning. 
 
 " skill. 
 
 Throw quhich anone I knew and vnderstude 
 Wele, that sche was a warldly creature; 
 
 On quhom to rest myn eye, so mich gude 
 It did my wofuU hert, I yow assure, 
 That it was to me ioye without mesure; 
 
 And, at the last, my luke vnto the hevin 
 
 I threwe furthwith, and said thir versis" sevin 
 
 i: these lines. 
 
38 K^ING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 I made a star. "Q Venus clcre ! of goddis stellifyitM 
 
 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 
 3 stopped a little Thus endit had, I stynt a lytill stound"; 
 
 space. 
 
 3 afterwards. And eft^ myn eye full pitously adoune 
 
 I kest, behalding vnto hir lytill hound, 
 That with his bellis playit on the ground; 
 Than wold I say, and sigh there-with a lyte, 
 "A! wele were him that now were in thy plyte!" 
 
 Ane-othir quhile the lytill nyghtingale, 
 That sat apon 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. 
 
 And eke I pray, for all the paynes grete, 
 
 4 Progne, wife That, for the loue of Proigne" thy sister dere, 
 
 ofTereus, i i • 
 
 changed to a Thou sufferit quhilom, quhen thy brestis wete 
 
 swallow. 
 
 Were with the teres of thyne eyen clere. 
 All bludy ronne; that pitee was to here 
 The crueltee of that vnknyghtly dede, 
 Quhare was fro the bereft thy maidenhede, 
 
THE KING IS QUAIR. 39 
 
 Lift vp thyne hert, and sing with gude entent; 
 
 And in thy notis suete the tresone telle, 
 That to thy sister trewe and innocent 
 
 Was kythit' 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 way\ ' '-possible way. 
 
 MS. xxty. 
 
 lytill wrecch, allace ! maist thou noght se 
 
 Quho comniyth yond? Is it now tyme to wrings? 3 g"«ve. 
 Quhat sory thoght is fallin vpon the? 
 
 Opyn thy throte; hastow no lest^ to sing? ' *'dcsil^°" """ 
 
 Allace ! sen thou of resone had felyng, 
 Now, suete 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? 
 Or is sche dede, or hath sche the forsake? 
 
 Quhat is the cause of thy malancolye, 
 
 That thou no more list^ maken melodye? s art pleased to. 
 
 Sluggart, for schame ! lo here thy goldin houre, 
 That worth were hale^ all thy lyvis laboure ! ^ wholly. 
 
 Gyf thou suld sing wele euer in thy lyve. 
 
 Here is, in fay', the tyme, and eke the space: 7 in faith. 
 Quhat wostow than*^? sum bird may cum and stryve « what ^JJ";."' 
 
 In song with the, the maistry to purchace. 
 
 Suld thou than cesse, it were grete schame, allace ! 
 And here, to wyn gree' happily for euer, 9 degree, supen- 
 
 Here is the tyme to syng, or ellis neuer." 
 
40 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 « throw forth (a 
 sound). 
 
 3 knows. 
 
 I thoght eke thus, gif I my handis clap, 
 Or gif I cast', than will sche flee away; 
 
 And gif I hald my pes, than will sche nap ; 
 And gif I crye, sche wate^ 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. he. With that anone ryght sche^ toke vp a sang, 
 
 Quhare come anone mo birdis and alight; 
 Bot than, to here the mirth was thame amang, 
 
 4 Above that too. Quer that to'*, 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 g^ ^^^^ j^y ^-^^jg boundin all to fest^. 
 
 6 Which. 
 
 And to the notis of the philomene, 
 
 Quhilkis^ sche sang, the ditee there I maid 
 
 Direct to hire that was my hertis quene, 
 Withoutin quhom no songis may me glade; 
 And to that sanct, [there] walking in the schade, 
 
 My bedis thus, with humble hert entere, 
 
 Ueuotly [than] I said on this manere. 
 
 7 have pity. 
 
 8 unknown. 
 
 " Quhen sail your merci rew^ vpon your man, 
 Quhois seruice is yit vncouth^ vnto yow? 
 
 Sen', quhen ye go, ther is noght ellis than'° 
 
 Bot, 'Hert! quhere as" the body may noght throu'*, 
 Folow thy hevin ! Quho suld be glad bot thou '^ 
 
 That suich a gyde to folow has vndertake? 
 14 refuse thou not. Were it throu hell, the way thou noght forsake'^!'" 
 
 9 Since. 
 •0 then. 
 
 II that. 
 1= may not go 
 through. 
 
 1.3 i.e. thou, O 
 heart ! 
 
THE KING IS QUA IK. 
 
 41 
 
 And efter this the birdis euerichone ' ■ every one. 
 
 Tuke vp ane-othir sang full loud and clere, 
 And with a voce said, " Wele is vs begone*, 
 
 That with oure makis' are togider here; 
 
 We proyne* and play without dout and dangere, < preen. 
 All clothit in a soyte= full fresch and newe, sin one suit. 
 
 In lufis seruice besy, glad, and trewe. 
 
 2 Well has it 
 happed with us. 
 
 3 mates. 
 
 And ye, fresche May, ay raercifull to bridis, 
 Now welcum be ye, floure of nionethis all ; 
 
 For noght onely your grace vpon vs bydis*, « abides. 
 
 Bot all the warld to witnes this we call, 
 That strowit hath so playnly ouer all 
 
 With new fresche suete and tender grene, 
 
 Oure lyf, oure lust', oure gouernoure, oure quene." 'iieiight. 
 
 This was thair song, as semyt me full heye^', 
 With full mony vncouth suete note and schill^ 
 
 And therewith-all that faire" vpward hir eye 
 Wold cast amang", as it was Goddis will, 
 Quhare I myght se, standing allane full still, 
 
 The faire facture" that nature, for maistrye'^. 
 
 In hir visage wroght had full lufingly. 
 
 8 loud. 
 
 9 shrill. 
 
 10 fair one. 
 " at times. 
 
 >2 worknianship. 
 13 as a master- 
 piece. 
 
 And, quhen sche walkit had a lytill thrawe"'' 
 Vnder the suete grene bewis bent'^ 
 
 Hir faire fresche face, as quhitc as ony snawe, 
 Scho turnyt has, and furth hir wayis went ; 
 Bot tho"^ began myn axis'^ and tunnent, 
 
 To sene hir part'**, and folowe I na myght; 
 
 Me-thoght the day was turnyt into nyght. 
 
 >4 while. 
 
 IS bended boughs. 
 
 '<> then. 
 '7 fever. 
 
 «8 see her depart. 
 
42 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 1 God knows, 
 
 yea. 
 
 2 these (pains) 
 
 no more 
 strongly may 
 afflict. 
 
 3 at once. 
 
 Than said I thus, " Quhare-to lyve I langer? 
 
 Wofullest wicht, and subiect vnto peyne ! 
 Of peyne? no! God wote, ya': for thay no stranger 
 
 May wirken^ ony wight, I dare wele seyne. 
 
 How may this be, that deth and lyf, bothe tueyne, 
 Sail bothe atonis^ in a creature 
 Togidder duell, and turment thus nature ? 
 
 I may noght ellis done bot wepe and waile, 
 4 locked. With-in thir cald walHs thus i-lokin"; 
 
 From hennsfurth my rest is my trauaile ; 
 My drye thrist with teris sail I slokin, 
 And on my-self bene al my harmys wrokin : 
 Thus bute^ is none ; bot* Venus, of hir grace, 
 , Will schape' remede, or do my spirit pace^ 
 
 5 remedy. 
 
 6 unless. 
 
 7 prepare. 
 
 8 make my spirit 
 
 pass. 
 
 9 alike. 
 
 I regarding. 
 
 As Tantalus I trauaile, ay but-les, 
 That euer ylike^ hailith at the well 
 
 Water to draw with buket botemles, 
 
 And may noght spede; quhois penance is ane hell: 
 So by" my-self this tale I may wele telle, 
 
 For vnto hir that herith noght I pleyne; 
 
 Thus like to him my trauaile is in veyne." 
 
 u foes. 
 
 12 certamty. 
 
 So sore thus sighit I with my-self allone. 
 That turnyt is my strenth in febilnesse, 
 
 My wele in wo, my frendis all in fone", 
 My lyf in deth, my lyght into dirknesse, 
 My hope in feer, in dout my sekirnesse'-; 
 
 '3 may God con- ggj^ ^^^ jg gone: and God mote hir conuoye'^ 
 That me may gyde to turment and to ioye ! 
 
THE KING IS QUAIR. 
 
 43 
 
 The long day thus gan I prye and poure, 
 Till Phebus endit had his hemes bryght, 
 
 And 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 bade' at lenth, and, kneling, maid my mone. 
 
 I abode. 
 
 So lang till evin, for lak of myght and mynd, 
 For-wepit and for-pleynit^ pitously, 
 
 Ourset so sorow had bothe hert and mynd, 
 That to the cold stone my hede on wrye^ 
 I laid, and lent, amaisit verily, 
 
 Half sleping and half suoune, in suich a wise ; 
 
 And quhat I met, I will you now deuise*. 
 
 3 weary with 
 weeping and 
 plaining. 
 
 3 awry. 
 
 4 describe. 
 
 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 iblent^; 
 
 And that with-all a voce vnto me saide, 
 
 "I bring the confort and hele^ be noght affrayde. " ^ dealing, 
 
 5 the whole power 
 was lost. 
 
 And furth anone it passit sodeynly, 
 
 Quher it come in, the ryght way ageyne, 
 
 And sone, mc-thoght, furth at the dure in hye' 
 I went my weye, nas nothing me ageyne*^; 
 And hastily, by bothe the amies tueyne, 
 
 I was araisit vp in-to the aire, 
 
 Clippit'^ in a cloude of cristall clere and fairc. 
 
 7 haste. 
 
 'i nor was there 
 anything 
 hindering me. 
 
 9 Embraced. 
 
44 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 I i.t. the Npliere 
 of the zodiac, 
 a clear. 
 
 Ascending vpvvard ay fro spere to spere, 
 Through aire and watere and the hote fyre, 
 
 Till that I come vnto the circle clere 
 
 Off Signifere', quhare faire, bryght, and schire% 
 The signis schone; and in the glade empire 
 
 Off blisfull Venus, [quhar] ane cryit now 
 
 So sudaynly, almost I wist noght how. 
 
 ? I.e. in a trice, 
 as one may say. 
 
 4 spacious. 
 
 S concourse. 
 
 Off quhich the place, quhen I come there nye, 
 Was all, me-thoght, of cristall stonis wroght, 
 
 And to the port I liftit was in hye, 
 
 Quhare sodaynly, as quho sais at a thoght\ 
 It opnyt, and I was anon in broght 
 
 Within a chamber, large, rowm", and faire; 
 
 And there I fand of peple grete repaired 
 
 6 adventures. 
 
 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 chancis* maid is mencioun 
 
 In diuerse bukis, quho thame hst to se; 
 
 And therefore here thaire namys lat I be. 
 
 The quhois auenture and grete labouris 
 
 Aboue thaire hedis writin there I fand ; 
 This is to seyne, martris and confessouris", 
 Ech in his stage, and his make'^ in his hand; 
 And therewith-all thir peple sawe I stand, 
 1 A!"iitchie '^^^^^ "'^''y ^ solempnit^ contenance, 
 [hem."^" After as Lufe thame lykit to auance". 
 
 7 i.e. for love. 
 
 8 mate. 
 
THE KING IS QUA IK. 
 
 45 
 
 Off gude folkis, that faire in lufe befiU", "^f«"- 
 
 There saw I sitt in order by thame one' ' ^y th«=m.eives. 
 
 With hedis hore ; and with thame stude Gude-will 
 To talk and play. And after that anone 
 Besyde thame and next there saw I gone^ 3 go about. 
 
 Curage, amang the fresche folkis yong, 
 
 And with thame playit full merily and song. 
 
 And in ane-othir stage, endlong* the wall, 
 There saw I stand, in capis wyde and lang, 
 
 A full grete nowmer; hot thaire hudis all. 
 Wist I noght quhy, atoure^ thair eyen hang; 
 And ay to thame come Repentance amang^ 
 
 And maid thame chere, degysit in his wede'. 
 
 And dounward efter that yit I tuke hede. 
 
 Ryght ouerthwert*" the chamber was there drawe 
 A trevesse' 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. 
 
 4 along. 
 
 5 over. 
 
 6 at times. 
 
 7 disguised in 
 dress. 
 
 8 athwart. 
 
 9 curtain. 
 
 And there-with-all apperit vnto me 
 
 A voce, and said, "Tak hede, man, and behold: 
 Yonder'" thou seis the hiest stage and gree" 
 
 Off agit folk, with hedis hore and oldc ; 
 
 Yone were the folke that neuer change wold 
 In lufe, bot trewly seruit him alway. 
 In eucry age, vnto thaire ending-day. 
 
 10 MS. Yonder 
 
 there. 
 • > degree. 
 
46 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 For fro the tyme that thai coud vnderstand 
 I The practice -pj^g excrcise, of lufis Craft the cure', 
 
 the skill of the ' ' 
 
 craft ofiove. ^y^g \-\ox\G. on Ivve'' that tokc so moch on hand 
 
 - alive. 
 
 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. 
 
 3 memory. 
 
 4 where. 
 
 Here bene also of suich as in counsailis 
 And all thar dedis, were to Venus trewe; 
 
 Here bene the princis, faucht the grete batailis, 
 In niynd"^ of quhom ar maid the bukis newe, 
 Here bene the poetis that the sciencis knewe, 
 
 Throwout the warld, of lufe in thaire suete layes, 
 
 Suich as Guide and Omere in thaire dayes. 
 
 And efter thame downe in the next stage, 
 There as" 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 soroufuUy, for wanting of thare makis^, 
 
 And sum in amies for thaire ladyes sakis. 
 
 And othir eke by othir diuerse chance. 
 
 As happin folk all day, as ye may se ; 
 Sum for dispaire, without recouerance; 
 
 Sum for desyre, surmounting thaire degree : 
 Sum for dispite and othir inmytee; 
 ^awhy.areason.Sum for vukyndenes without a quhy^; 
 7r..^^toomuch g^j^^ f^j. ^^ n^Qch', and sum for ielousye. 
 
 D mates. 
 
THE KINGIS QUAIR. 47 
 
 And efter this, vpon yone stage adoun', 'MS. doun. 
 
 Tho that thou seis stond in capis wyde; 
 Yone were quhilum= folk of religioun, ^on^^^- 
 
 That from the warld thaire gouernance' 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 hudis : 
 
 For though that thai were hardy at assay^ 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 rawe^ 5 in a row. 
 
 Standing, behynd yone trauerse of delyte? 
 Sum bene of thame that haldin were full lawe, 
 
 And take by frendis, nothing thay to wyte^ ^ blame. 
 
 In youth from lufe into the cloistere quite; 
 And for that cause are cummyn, recounsilit^ ^ 'liieTr mat*'!''' 
 
 On thame to pleyne that so thame had begilit. 
 
 And othir bene amongis thame also, 
 
 That cummyn ar to court, on Lufe to pleyne^ « complain. 
 
 For he thaire bodyes had bestowit so, 
 
 Quhare bothe thaire hertes gruchit' ther-ageyne; ""iS.' ^^^' 
 For quhich, in all thaire dayes, soth to seyne'°, -tnuhtos..y. 
 
 Quhen othir lyvit in ioye and [in] plesance, 
 
 Thaire lyf was noght bot care and repentance ; 
 
48 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 ■ misdecil. 
 a Separating. 
 
 1 driven from 
 tlicir choice. 
 
 4 MS. So. 
 
 S rea.<u3n. 
 
 And, quhare thaire hertis gevin were and set, 
 Were coplit with othir that coud noght accord; 
 
 Thus were thai wrangit that did no forfet', 
 Departing^ thame that neuer wold discord. 
 Off yong ladies faire, and mony lord, 
 
 That thus by maistry were fro thair chose dryve\ 
 
 Full rcdy were thaire playntis there to gyve." 
 
 And othir also I sawe compleynyng there 
 Vpon Fortune and hir grete variance, 
 
 That, quhere in loue so wele they coplit were. 
 With thaire suete makis coplit in plesance, 
 Sche" sodeynly maid thaire disseuerance, 
 
 And tuke thame of this warldis companye, 
 
 Withoutin cause, there was none othir quhy^. 
 
 And in a chiere of estate besyde. 
 
 With wingis bright, all plumyt, bot his face, 
 
 There sawe I sitt the blynd god Cupide, 
 With bow in hand, that bent full redy was. 
 And by him hang thre arowis in a cas, 
 
 Off quhich the hedis grundyn were full ryght, 
 
 Off diuerse metals forgit faire and bryght. 
 
 '' Worse. 
 7 recovery, 
 o bright. 
 
 And with the first, that hedit is of gold, 
 He smytis soft, and that has esy cure ; 
 
 The secund was of siluer, mony-fold 
 
 Wers* than the first, and harder auenture; 
 The thrid, of stele, is schot without recure^; 
 
 And on his long yalow lokkis schene" 
 
 A chaplet had he all of levis grene. 
 
THE KINGrS QUATR. 
 
 49 
 
 And in a retrete lytill of compas, 
 
 Depeyntit' all with sighis wonder sad, 
 
 Noght suich sighis as hertis doith manace", 
 Bot suich as dooth lufaris to be glad, 
 Fond I Venus vpon hir i)ed, that had 
 
 A mantill cast ouer hir schuldris quhite : 
 
 Thus clothit was the goddesse of delyte. 
 
 ' Painted. 
 
 - makes menace 
 to hearK. 
 
 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 avise^; 
 
 And on hir hede, of rede rosis full suete, 
 
 A chapellet sche had, faire, fresch, and mete. 
 
 3 more, of whom 
 I cannot tell. 
 
 With quaking hert astonate of that sight, 
 Vnnethis" wist I quhat that I suld seyne ; 
 
 Bot at the last febily, as I myght, 
 
 With my handis on hothe my kneis tueyne. 
 There I begouth my caris to compleyne ; 
 
 With ane humble and lamentable chere 
 
 Thus salute I that goddesse bryght and clere : 
 
 4 Scarcely. 
 
 " Hye Quene of T.ufe ! sterre of beneuolcnce ! 
 Pitouse princes, and planet merciable^! 
 
 Appesare of malice and violence ! 
 
 By vertew pure of your aspectis hablc^ 
 Vnto youre grace lat now bene acceptable 
 
 My pure request, that can no forthir gone 
 
 To seken help, bot vnto yow allonc ' 
 
 merciful. 
 
 * powerful. 
 
 II 
 
so 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 > conquerixl. 
 
 As ye that bene the socoure and suete well 
 Off remedye, of careful! hertes cure, 
 
 And, in the huge weltering wawis fell 
 Off lufis rage, blisfull havin and sure ; 
 O anker and keye of our gude auenture, 
 
 Ye haue your man with his gude-will conquest': 
 
 Merci, therefore, and bring his hert to rest ! 
 
 a wholly. 
 
 1 poor servant. 
 4 have pity on. 
 
 5 prepare. 
 
 6 make me die. 
 
 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 : 
 Sen in your handis all hale" lyith my cure, 
 
 Haue pitee now, O bryght blisfull goddesse, 
 
 Off your pure man\ and rew" 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, 
 Forgiue all this, and shapith^ remedye 
 
 To sauen me of your benigne grace. 
 
 Or do me steruen* furth-with in this place. 
 
 And with the stremes of your percyng lyght 
 Conuoy my hert, that is so wo-begone, 
 
 Ageyne vnto that suete hevinly sight. 
 That I, within the wallis cald as stone, 
 7 in the morning. Sq suctly saw ou morow' Walk and gone, 
 
 Law in the gardyn, ryght tofore myn eye ; 
 
 Now, merci. Queue ! and do me noght to deye." 
 
THE KINGIS QUAIR. 
 
 51 
 
 Thir wordis said, my spirit in dispaire, 
 A quhile I stynt, abiding efter grace': 
 
 And there-with-all hir cristall eyen faire 
 Sche= 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 
 
 » stoppetl, wait- 
 ing to find 
 grace. 
 
 2 MS. Me. 
 
 " Yong man, the cause of all thyne inward sorowc 
 
 Is noght vnknawin to my deite, 
 And thy request, bothe now and eke toforowe^ 
 
 Quhen thou iirst maid professioun to me ; 
 
 Sen of my grace I haue inspirit the 
 To knawe my lawe, contynew furth, for oft, 
 There as I mynf full sore, I smyte bot soft. 
 
 3 formerly. 
 
 4 There where I 
 aim. 
 
 S belongs. 
 
 Paciently thou tak thyne auenture. 
 
 This will my sone Cupide, and so will I, 
 He can the stroke, to me langis^ the cure 
 
 Quhen I se tyme, and therefor humily 
 
 Abyde, and serue, and lat Gude-hope the gye'^: « guide thee. 
 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 hemes schene^ 
 Has thaire aspectis by ordynancc eterne. 
 With otheris bynden, mynes to discernc, 
 
 Quhilum in thingis bothe to cum and gone, 
 
 That langis noght to me, to writh allone"; 
 
 7 bright. 
 
 8 i.e. My means 
 of discernment, 
 past and flit me, 
 are bound up 
 with others' 
 (powers) ; con- 
 trol belongs not 
 to me nlone. 
 MS. bind and. 
 
52 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 1 For which 
 
 reason. 
 
 2 i.e. other 
 
 planet's 
 influence. 
 
 3 control. 
 
 4 Until. 
 
 As in tliyne awin case now may thou se, 
 For-quhy' lo, that [by] otheris influence" 
 
 Thy per.sone standis noght in hbertee ; 
 
 Quharefore, though I geve the beneuolence, 
 It standis noght yit in myn aduertence^ 
 
 Till certeyne coursis endit be and ronne, 
 
 QuhilP of trew seruis thow have hir graice i-wone. 
 
 S crimson cloth. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 Or sek-cloth is vnto fyne cremesye-\: 
 
 Or doken to the fresche dayesye. 
 
 * bright. 
 
 7 MS. like unto 
 May. 
 
 '*^ coats of arms. 
 9 arrayed alike. 
 »o parrot. 
 
 " compare. 
 MS. pererese, 
 
 Vnlike the mone is to the sonne schene*; 
 Eke lanuarye is vnlike to May"; 
 
 Vnlike the cukkow to the phylomene ; 
 
 Thaire tabartis** ar noght bothe maid of array 
 Vnlike the crow is to the pape-iay'"; 
 
 Vnlike, in goldsmythis werk, a fischis eye 
 
 To peire" 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 sekernesse'-, 
 The help of othir mo that'^ bene goddes, 
 
 And haue in thame the menes and the lore, 
 '^'thy'^'°e°"i'h. ^" ^'^'^ matere to schorten with thy sore'". 
 
 •2 assurance. 
 13 MS. than. 
 
THE KING IS QUAIR. 
 
 53 
 
 And for thou sail se wele that I entend, 
 Vn-to thy help, thy welefare to preserue, 
 
 The streight 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 supplye', 
 
 And put thy hert in rest, als wele as I. 
 
 help. 
 
 Bot, for the way is vncouth vnto the, 
 There as hir duelling is and hir soiurne, 
 
 I will that Gude-hope seruand to the be, 
 Youre alleris frend^, to let the to murn^ 
 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, 
 
 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 auise=, saJvice. 
 
 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 none*^ that thereof gevis charge? 
 
 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. 
 
 T cease at another ^t^,5 ouhen I wepc, and styntcn othir quhile', 
 
 time. 
 
 For pacience that is m womanhede. 
 Than all my wrath and rancoure I exile; 
 And of my cristall teris that bene schede, 
 The hony flouris growen vp and sprede, 
 •-•pray. That preyen^ 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 
 
 3 space of time. Styutith thaire song, and murnyth for that stound\ 
 
 And all the lightis in the hevin round 
 
 4 compassion. Qff my greuauce haue suich compacience", 
 
 That from the ground they hiden thaire presence. 
 
 And yit in tokenyng forthir of this thing, 
 
 Quhen flouris springis, and freschest bene of hewe, 
 And that the birdis on the twistis sing, 
 
 5 MS. to renew. ^j- thilke tymc ay gynnen folk renewe^ 
 
 That seruis vnto loue, as ay is dewe. 
 Most commonely has ay his obseruance, 
 
 6 former. And of thaire sleuth tofore^ haue repentance. 
 
THE KING IS QUAIR. 
 
 55 
 
 Thus maist thou seyne, that myn effectis grete, 
 Vnto the quhich ye aughten maist weye', 
 
 No lyte offense, to sleuth is [al] forget": 
 And therefore in this wise to thame seye, 
 As I the here haue bidden 5, and conueye 
 
 The matere all the better tofore said^; 
 
 Thus sail on the my charge bene ilaid. 
 
 • ouglil most to 
 pay regard. 
 MS. aught and. 
 
 = owing to slotli 
 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 awayte=, the hertly obseruance. 
 
 That quhilum was amongis thame so ryf? 
 
 Bid thame repent in tyme, and mend thare lyf: 
 
 S service (waiting 
 upon). 
 
 6 all whole. 
 
 7 remove. 
 
 Or I sail, with my fader old Saturne, 
 
 And with al hale^ oure hevinly alliance, 
 Oure glad aspectis from thame writh' and turne. 
 
 That all the warld sail waile*^ thaire gouernance. s bewail. 
 
 Bid thame be-tyme that thai haue repentance, 
 And [with] thaire hertis hale renew my lawe; 
 And I my hand fro beting sail withdrawe. 
 
 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 lyve with me as goddis in this place.'" 
 
56 
 
 KJNl! JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 • JmW. 
 
 - shortly lo say. 
 i.e. lo be brief. 
 
 With humble thank, and all the reuerence 
 That feble wit and connyng^ may atteyne, 
 
 I tuke my leue; and from hir presence, 
 Gude-hope and I to-gider, bothe tueyne, 
 Uepartit are, and, schortly for to seyne^ 
 
 He hath me led [be] redy wayis ryght 
 
 Vnto Mineruis palace, faire and bryght. 
 
 3 gate. 
 
 4 The sober 
 
 retinue (0 
 
 5 dignified. 
 
 Quhare as I fand, full redy at the yate^, 
 The maister portare, callit Pacience, 
 
 That frely lete vs in, vnquestionate ; 
 
 And there we sawe the perfyte excellence, 
 The said renewed the state, the reuerence, 
 
 The strenth, the beautee, and the ordour digne^ 
 
 Off hir court riall, noble and benigne. 
 
 6 timorous 
 humility. 
 
 And straught vnto the presence sodeynly 
 Off dame Minerue, the pacient goddesse, 
 
 Gude-hope my gyde led me redily \ 
 
 To quhom anone, with dredefuU humylnesse*, 
 Off my cummyng the cause I gan expresse, 
 
 And all the processe hole, vnto the end, 
 
 Off Venus charge, as likit hir to send. 
 
 7 seek. 
 
 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 fonde" 
 Off thy pennance sum confort at my bond. 
 
 Be counsele of thy lady Venus clere. 
 
 To be with hir thyne help in this matere. 
 
THE KING IS QUAIR. 
 
 57 
 
 But in this case thou sail wele knawc and witt, 
 Thou may thy hert ground on suich a wise, 
 
 That thy laboure will be hot lytill quit"; 
 And thou may set it in anothir wise-, 
 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. 
 
 I reiiuilecl. 
 
 - MS. in othir 
 wise. 
 
 3 as much as to 
 say. 
 
 ■I On foolisli 
 desire. 
 
 Lo, my gude sone, this is als mich to seyne^, 
 
 As, gif thy lufe [be] sett all-uterly 
 Of nyce lust"*, thy trauail is in veyne ; 
 
 And so the end sail turne of thy folye 
 
 To payne and repentance; lo, wate thou cjuhyH s know thou why, 
 Gif the ne list on lufe thy vertew set, 
 Vertu sail be the cause of thy forfet^ disaster. 
 
 Talc Him before in all thy gouernance. 
 
 That in His hand the stere^ has of you all ; 
 
 And pray vnto His hye purueyance^ 
 
 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. 
 
 7 control. 
 
 8 providence. 
 
 For lo, the werk that first is fpundit sure, 
 May better bere a pace-' and hyare be, 
 
 Than othir-wise, and langcre sail endure. 
 Be monyfald, this may thy resoun sec. 
 And stronger to defend '" aduersitee : 
 
 Ground thy werk, therefore, vpon the stone, 
 
 And thy desire sail forthward with the gone. 
 
 9 Stage, storey. 
 
 '0 resist. 
 
58 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 ' care. 
 
 • given forlli by 
 rule. 
 
 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 cure' 
 Accord thereto; and vtrid be mesure" 
 
 The place, the houre, the maner, and the wise; 
 
 Gif mercy sail admitten thy seruise. 
 
 3 well is it with. 
 
 4 abidcth. MS. 
 
 wil abit. 
 
 5 controls not 
 
 fortune. 
 
 6 i 
 
 joined. 
 
 All thing has tyme, thus sais Ecclesiaste ; 
 
 And wele is^ him that his tyme wel abit". 
 Abyde thy time; for he that can bot haste 
 
 Can noght of hap 5, the wise man it writ ; 
 
 And oft gude fortune flourish with gude wit : 
 Quharefore, gif thou will be wele fortunyt, 
 Lat wisedome ay to thy will be iunyt^. 
 
 7 brittle, unre- Bot there be mony of so brukilP sort, 
 
 liable. 
 
 That feynis treuth in lufe for a quhile, 
 s sport, delight. ^^^^ scttcn all thaire wittis and disport^ 
 The sely innocent woman to begyle, 
 And so to Wynne thaire lustis with a wile ; 
 Suich feynit treuth is all bot trechorye, 
 9s!iade. Vnder the vmbre' of hid ypocrisye. 
 
 10 bush. 
 
 11 deceit. 
 
 12 deceiver. 
 
 For as the foulere quhistlith in his throte 
 Diuersely, to counterfete the brid, 
 
 And feynis mony a suete and strange note, 
 That in the busk" for his desate" is hid. 
 Till sche be fast lokin his net amyd ; 
 
 Ryght so the fatoure'^, the false theif, I say, 
 
 With suete tresoun oft wynnith thus his pray. 
 
THE KING IS QUA IK. 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 kid' be mony assayes ; '"shown."' 
 
 More pitee is; for quhich the remanant, 
 
 That menen wele, and ar noght variant, 
 For otheris gilt ar^ suspect of vntreuth, = ^s. 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 he that to hir worschipping 
 Myght ought auaile, be Him that starf on rude\ * ''^j"d on ITrL^ 
 And nouthir spare for trauaile, lyf, nor gude^ -g-ds. 
 
6o 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 ■ MS. Wald. 
 
 = endure. 
 
 And forth irmore, 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 
 Nold' I be he that suld of hir gude fame 
 
 Be blamischere in ony point or wyse, 
 
 For wele nor wo, quhill my lyfe may suffise". 
 
 3MS. theffect. This is the effect^ trewly of myn entent, 
 
 Touching the suete that smertis me so sore, 
 
 4 feigned (fault?). Giff this be faynt", I can it noght repent, 
 
 AU-though my lyf suld forfaut be therefore, 
 Blisful princes ! I can seye you no more ; 
 
 5 desire so com- jjQt SO desire my wittis dooth compace^, 
 
 passes my wits. 
 
 6 without. More ioy in erth kepe I noght bot® your grace." 
 
 7 1 will not say it "Desire," quod sche, "I nyl it noght deny'', 
 
 nay. 
 
 8 truly without 
 
 deceit. 
 
 9 MS. That day 
 
 sail I never 
 up-rise. 
 
 'o covet. 
 " honour. 
 ■2 jeopardy. 
 
 13 MS. it. 
 '4 in course of 
 time. 
 
 '3 Her honour 
 
 safe. 
 >6 lot. 
 
 So thou it ground and set in Cristin wise ; 
 And therefore, sone, opyn thy hert playnly." 
 "Madame," quod I, "trew withoutin fantise^ 
 That day sail neuer be I sail vp-rise'-' 
 For my delyte to couate'° the plesance 
 That may hir worschip" putten in balance'-. 
 
 For oure all thing, lo, this were my gladnesse. 
 To sene the fresche beautee of hir face ; 
 
 And gif I'' myght deserue, be processe'^ 
 
 For my grete lufe and treuth, to stond in grace, 
 Hir worschip sauf'^, lo, here the blisfull cace'^ 
 
 That I wold ask, and there-to attend. 
 
 For my most ioye vnto my lyfis end." 
 
THE KING IS QUA IN. 
 
 6i 
 
 "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 sleuth', 
 Off thy distresse and excessc to haue reuth 
 
 That has thy hert : I will pray full faire 
 
 That Fortune he no more thereto contraire. 
 
 heartily with- 
 out sloth. 
 
 For suth it is, that all ye creaturis 
 
 Quhich vnder vs beneth haue your duellyng 
 Ressauen diuersely your auenturis". 
 
 Off quhich the cure and principall mclling' 
 
 Apperit is'', withoutin repellyng-\ 
 Onely to hir that has the cuttis two 
 In hand*, bothe of your wele and of your wo. 
 
 - Receive your 
 
 courses of life 
 
 variously. 
 1 care and chief 
 
 .guidance (//.'. 
 
 meddling). 
 
 4 .Appertains. 
 
 5 recall. 
 
 6 i.e. Fortune. 
 
 And how so be that sum clerkis trete, 
 That all your chance^ causit is tofore 
 
 Heigh in the hevin, by quhois effectis grete 
 Ye movit are to wrething^, lesse or more, 
 Thar' in the warld, thus calling that therefore 
 
 ' Fortune,' and so that the diuersitee 
 
 Off thaire wirking'" suld cause necessitee. 
 
 7 lot. 
 
 8 action. 
 
 9 MS. Quhare. 
 
 '0 working. 
 
 Bet othir clerkis halden that the man 
 Has in him-self the chose" 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 purpose"', so cleping thame 'fortune.' 
 
 " choice. 
 
 >3 according to 
 purpose. 
 
62 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 : previous know- And Quhare a persone has tofore knawing' 
 Off it that is to fall purposely, 
 
 a note. 
 3 MS. it. 
 
 A is previously 
 aware. 
 
 5 is greatest and 
 strongest. 
 
 6 communion. 
 
 Lo, Fortune is bot wayke in suich a thing, 
 Thou may wele wit", and here ensample quhy; 
 To God, that 3 is the first cause onely 
 Off euery thing, there may no fortune fall : 
 And quhy? for he foreknawin is'' of all. 
 
 And therefore thus I say to this sentence; 
 Fortune is most and strangest ^ euermore 
 
 Quhare lest foreknawing or intelligence 
 Is in the man ; and, sone, of wit or lore 
 Sen thou are wayke and feble, lo, therefore. 
 
 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 compacience; 
 7 .assuagement. And in confort and relesche^ of thy sore, 
 « .-idvice. The schewit [hauej here myn avise*^ 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 in the way of Ouhat I liauc Said in way of thy doctryne'." 
 
 teaching thee. ^- j j j 
 
 to MS. he. "I sail, madame," quod P°; and ryght anone 
 I tuke my leve. Als straught as ony lyne, 
 With-in a beme that fro the contree dyvine 
 
 " /.J', in a beam Schc, percvng throw the firmament, extendit", 
 
 which she shot i t^ j a ' ■> 
 
 from heaten^'^ "'"^ ground agcyne my spirit is descendit. 
 
THE KING IS QUAIR. 
 
 Quhare, in a lusty' plane, tuke I my way, 
 Endlang- a ryuer, plesant to behold, 
 
 Enbroudin' 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, mellit" 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 lode, 
 
 l.ap and playit, and in a rout can swym 
 
 So prattily, and dressit=^ thame to sprede saddrcsseti. 
 
 Thaire curall*^ fynnis, as the ruby rede, ^ coral. 
 
 That in the sonne on thaire scalis bryght 
 
 As gesserant^ ay glitterit in my sight: ? shining mail. 
 
 And by this ilke ryuer-syde alawe^ 
 Ane hye-way fand I like to bene^ 
 
 On quhich, on euery syde, a long rawe 
 Off treis saw I, full of leuis grene, 
 That full of fruyte delitable were to sene"°, 
 
 And also, as it come vnto my mind. 
 
 Off bestis sawe I mony diuerse kynd : 
 
 3 down by this 
 
 same river-side. 
 9 like as it were. 
 
 lo to be seen. 
 
 The lyoun king, and his fere" lyonesse; 
 
 The pantere, like vnto the smaragdyne'=; 
 The lytill squerell, full of-besynesse; 
 
 The slawe ase, the druggare beste of pyne'^; 
 
 The nyce'* ape; the wcrely'^ porpapyne ; 
 The percyng lynx; the lufare vnicorne"^, 
 That voidis venym with his euour'" home. 
 
 ■ ■ companion. 
 
 12 emerald. 
 
 13 drudging 
 
 beast of pain. 
 
 '4 foolish. 
 
 'S warlike. 
 
 >6 the " lover uni- 
 corn" w.as to be 
 taki;n, Samson- 
 like, by maiden 
 lures. 
 
 ■7 ivory. 
 
64 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 There sawe I dresse him new out of [liis] haunt 
 1 active. The fery' tigere, full of felonye^; , 
 
 'sst'anciins. The dromydarc ; the standar' oHphant : 
 The wyly fox, the wedowis inemye ; 
 4 dimi-ing goat. The clymbare gayte^ the elk for alblastrye^; 
 'againSsiies. The herknerc hore^ the holsum grey for hortis'; 
 "To;";'."'"' The haire also, that oft gooth to the wortisl 
 
 7 badger good fov 
 hurts 
 
 8 plants. ^^^ bugill^ draware by his hornis grete ; 
 
 .0 marten. The martrik'", sable, the foynyee", and mony mo; 
 
 u beech-maiten. . . ^i • . 
 
 The chalk-quhite ermyn, tippit as the lete; 
 .= skilful. The riall hert, the conyng'", and the ro ; 
 
 .3 MS. say. The wolf, that of the murthir noght sayis'^ "Ho !" 
 
 14 skilful. The lestv'"* beuer, and the ravin bare'^; 
 
 It ravening bear. ■' 
 
 .0 camlet cloth. For chamelot'*, the camel full of hare; 
 
 With mony ane-othir beste diuerse and strange, 
 That cummyth noght as now vnto my mynd. 
 
 Bot now to purpose, — straucht furth the range 
 I held a-way, ou re-hailing in my mynd 
 From quhenes I come, and quhare that I suld fynd 
 .7 in haste. Fortune, the goddesse, vnto quhom in hye'" 
 
 Gude-hope, my gyde, has led me sodeynly. 
 
 And at the last, behalding thus asyde, 
 A round place, wallit, haue I found ; 
 •>s .;oon after. In myddis quhare eftsone'" I have aspide'' 
 
 <9 MS. spide. 
 
 » lodging. Mod. Fortune, the goddesse, hufing=° on the ground ; 
 
 resort. ' ' And ryght before hir fete, of compas round, 
 51 clinging 1 saw. A quhelc, on quhich cleuering I sye"" 
 A multitude of folk before myn eye. 
 
THE KINGIS QUA IX, 
 
 65 
 
 « wore. 
 
 And ane surcote sche werit' long that tyde, 
 
 That semyt to me of diuerse hewis, 
 Quhilum thus, quhen sche wald [hir] turne asyde, 
 
 Stude this goddesse of fortune and [of glewis-] ; > spons, freaks, 
 
 A chapellet, with mony fresche anewis' 
 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, 
 Degoutit with the self-* in spottis blake : 
 
 And quhilum in hir chiere^ thus a lyte* 
 
 Louring sche was ; and thus sone it wold slake', 
 And sodeynly a maner^ smylyng make, 
 
 An' sche were glad ; [for] at one contenance 
 
 Sche held noght, hot [was] ay in variance. 
 
 4 self-spotted. 
 
 5 cheer, 
 
 demeanour. 
 
 6 a little. 
 
 7 slacken, cease. 
 * manner of. 
 
 9 If. MS. And. 
 
 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 fricht". 
 
 JO affrighted. 
 
 Bot for to se the sudayn weltering 
 
 Off that ilk quhele, that sloppare" was to hold, »« slippery. 
 It semyt vnto my wit a strange" thing, « MS. strong. 
 
 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 " 
 
66 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 And on the quhele was lytill void space, 
 • very nearly Welc nerc ourc-straught' fro lawe vnto^ hye; 
 
 straight across. " 
 
 =>MS. to. ^^jj ^^g ^ej-e ware^ that long sat in place, 
 
 3 wary. -^ , . , , . . 
 
 4 So unsteadily So tolter quhiluDi did sche it to-wrye*; 
 
 rurn^dTawry. There was bot clymbe and ryght dounward hye^, 
 s hasten. ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^j^^ ^^^^ fallyng had [so] sore, 
 
 There for to clymbe thaire corage was no more. 
 
 I sawe also that, quhere sum were slungin. 
 Be quhirlyng of the quhele, vnto the ground, 
 
 6 thrust them up. full sudaynly sche hath [thaim] vp ythrungin^. 
 
 And set thame on agane full sauf and sound : 
 And euer I sawe a new swarme abound, 
 That [thought] to clymbe vpward vpon the quhele, 
 
 7 go round. jn stede of thame that myght no langer rele^ 
 
 8 MS. presene. 
 
 9 called. 
 
 10 saluting. 
 
 And at the last, in presence* of thame all 
 That stude about, sche clepit' me be name; 
 
 And therewith apon kneis gan I fall 
 
 Full sodaynly hailsing", 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. 
 
 " stands. 
 
 «2 along and 
 across. Mod. 
 colloq. to tell 
 the long and 
 the short of it. 
 
 >3 Since. 
 
 I se wele, by thy chere and contenance. 
 There is sum thing that lyis the on hert, 
 
 It stant" noght with the as thou wald, perchance?" 
 " Madame," quod I, " for lufe is all the smert 
 That euer I fele, endlang and ouerthwert". 
 
 Help, of your grace, me wofull wrechit wight, 
 
 Sen'^ me to cure ye powere haue and myght." 
 
THE KINGIS QUAIR. 
 
 67 
 
 "Quhat help," quod sche, " wold thou that I ordeyne, 
 To bring the vnto thy hertis desire?" 
 
 "Madame," quod I, "hot that your grace dedeyne", "^^'^"' 
 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 mate^" 
 
 "Off mate?" quod sche, "O! verray sely wrech\ 
 I se wele by thy dedely coloure pale, 
 
 Thou art to feble of thy-self to streche 
 Vpon my quhele, to clymbe or to hale" 
 Withoutin help ; for thou has fundin stale^ 
 
 This mony day, withoutin werdis wele*, 
 
 And wantis now thy veray hertis hele''. 
 
 2 on point of being 
 checkmated. 
 
 3 truly helpless 
 wretch. 
 
 4 haul. 
 
 5 found stall 
 
 (prison). 
 
 6 happy fate. 
 
 7 health. 
 
 Wele maistow be a wrechit man callit, 
 
 That wantis the confort suld^ thy hert glade; 
 
 And has all thing within thy hert stallit', 
 That may thy youth oppressen or defade". 
 Though thy begynnyng hath bene retrograde. 
 
 Be froward opposyt quhare till aspert". 
 
 Now sail thai turne, and luke on the dert"." 
 
 And therewith-all vnto the quhele in hye'^ 
 
 Sche hath me led, and bad me lere'" to clymbe, •* leam 
 
 Vpon 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. 
 
 8 MS. that suld. 
 
 9 installed. 
 »o dispirit. 
 
 •« Opposed by 
 froward men 
 towards whom 
 thou art exas- 
 perated. 
 
 «= dirt. 
 
 «3 in haste. 
 
68 
 
 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 1 these folk 
 before (thee). 
 
 Ensample," quod sche, " tak of this toforeS 
 That fro my quhele be rolht as a ball; 
 
 For the nature of it is euermore, 
 » descend. After ane hicht, to vale" and geue a fall, 
 
 3 to cause to fall. Thus, quhen me likith, vp or doune to fall 3. 
 
 Fare-wele," quod sche, and by the ere me toke 
 
 So ernestly, that therewithall I woke. 
 
 4 restless spirit. O besy gostcM 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: 
 s art thou treated. From day to day so sore here artow drest^, 
 « always while That with thy flesche ay walking^ art in trouble, 
 
 waking. •' i j ui 
 
 7 pain. And sleping eke ; of pyne' so has thou double. 
 
 SMS. Couert. Towart^ my-self all this mene I to loke'. 
 
 9 have regard. ^ 
 
 Though that my spirit vexit was tofore 
 '° "^Mwfu n I" sueuenyng", alssone as euer I woke 
 " MS. xxty fold. By twenty-fold" it was in trouble more. 
 
 Bethinking me with sighing hert and sore 
 That [I] nane othir thingis bot dremes had, 
 "certainty. Nor sekernes", my spirit with to glad. 
 
 >3 addressed. 
 M Filled full. 
 15 MS. in. 
 
 And therewith sone I dressit'^ me to ryse, 
 Fulfild'" of thoght, pyne, and aduersitee; 
 
 And to my-self I said vpon'^ 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 
 
 • providence. 
 
 And gif ye goddis, of youre puruiance', 
 
 Haue schewit this for my reconforting, 
 In relesche' of my furiouse pennance, 
 
 I yow beseke full humily of this thing, 
 
 That of youre grace I myght haue more takenyng', 3 token 
 Gif it sal be as in my slepe before 
 Ye shewit haue." And forth, withoutin more, 
 
 3 assuagement. 
 
 In hye vnto the wyndow gan I walk, 
 Moving within my spirit of this sight, 
 
 Quhare sodeynly a turture^ quhite as chalky 
 So evinly vpon my hand gan lyght. 
 And vnto me sche turnyt hir full ryght; 
 
 Off quham the chere in hir birdis aporf^ 
 
 Gave me in hert kalendis of confort^ 
 
 4 turtle-dove. 
 
 5 MS. calk. 
 
 6 demeanour. 
 
 7 beginnings of 
 
 comfort. 
 
 This fair bird ryght in hir bill gane hold 
 
 Of red iorofflis^ with thair stalkis grene 
 A fair branche, quhare writtin was with gold, 
 
 On euery list', with branchis bryght and schene ■" ^/^^^„';i,hes 
 
 ^.,-1,1 Ti i II bright and 
 
 In compas fair, full plesandly to sene , beautiful. 
 
 A plane sentence, quhich, as I can deuise » pleasant to see. 
 
 And haue in mynd, said ryght on this wise: 
 
 "Awak! awake! I bring, lufar", I bring 
 The newis glad, that blisfuU bene and sure 
 
 Of thy confort ; now lauch, and play, and syng. 
 That art besid'^ so glad ane auenture; 
 For in the hevyn decretit is the cure'^" 
 
 And vnto me the flouris fair present '^i 
 
 With wyngis spred, hir wayis forth sche went. 
 
 8 gillyflowers. 
 
 12 lover. 
 
 >3 near to. 
 
 14 cure is decreed 
 
 thee. 
 «S she presented. 
 
70 
 
 KING /AMES THE FIRST. 
 
 ' ere. 
 
 » took. 
 
 Quhilk vp a-none I tuke, and as I gesse, 
 Ane hundreth tymes, or' I forthir went, 
 
 I haue it red, with hertfull glaidnese ; 
 
 And, half with hope, and half with dred, it hent". 
 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. 
 
 3 MS. Quhich 
 
 hensferth. 
 
 4 That to my 
 freedom. 
 
 The quhich treuly efter, day be day, 
 That all my wittis maistrit had tofore, 
 
 From hennesferth^ the paynis did away. 
 
 And schortly, so wele Fortune has hir bore, 
 To quikin treuly day by day my lore, 
 
 To my larges thaf I am cumin agayne. 
 
 To blisse with hir that is my souirane. 
 
 B 
 
 ot for als moche as sum micht think or seyne, 
 
 5 upon so small VJ Quhat ncdis me, apoun so litill evyn^, 
 
 a foundation. 
 
 Mod. Scot. ^ To writt all this? I ansuere thus ageyne, — 
 
 supposition. . • i • 6 
 
 6 had once crept Quho that from hell war croppin onys m hevm , 
 
 into heaven. ,^, , , .. , , /- • i n 
 
 7MS.viorvii. Wald efter o thank for loy mak sex orsevyn': 
 
 8 .sweet, 
 
 happiness. 
 
 And euery wicht his awin suete^ or sore 
 
 Has maist in mynde : I can say you no more. 
 
 Eke quho may in this lyfe haue more plesance 
 9 liberty. Than cum to largesse' from thraldom and peyne, 
 
 JO means. And by the mene'° of Lufifis ordinance. 
 
 That has so mony in his goldin cheyne? 
 "MS. this. Quhich thinkis" to wyn his hertis souereyne, 
 
 "blame. Quho suld me wite'^ to write thar-of, lat se ! 
 
 Now sufficiante is my felicitee, 
 
THE KING IS QUAIR. 71 
 
 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 relesch', and sone to stand in grace, • relieve. 
 
 Boith to his worschip- and to his first ese; = honour. 
 
 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 sely^ to begynne 3 seasonable. 
 
 Thair prentissehed, and forthir-more I pray 
 
 For thame that passit ben the mony affray 
 In lufe, and cummyn^ ar to full plesance, 4MS. cunnyng. 
 
 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 spurned s/..^j^pray^th.-u 
 
 To rekyn of euery-thing the circumstance, 
 
 As hapnit me quhen lessen gan my sore, 
 Of my rancoure and [of my] wofuU chance, 
 
 It war to long, I lat it be tharefor. 
 
 And thus this floured I can seye no more, ''womanhood. 
 
 So hertly has vnto my help attendit. 
 That from the deth hir man sche has defendit, 
 
72 KING JAMES THE FIRST. 
 
 • working. And eke the goddis merciful! virking', 
 
 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 ioy, that neuir may remufe, 
 = praise. got onely dcth : of quhom, in laud and prise', 
 
 With thankfuU hert I say richt in this wise : — 
 
 3 may. " BHssit mot^ 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 ! 
 
 4 axle-tree. ^j^^j thankit bc Fortunys exiltree" 
 
 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, or^ that sche forthir went ! 
 
 6 gillyflower. And thou gerafloure^ mot i-thankit be 
 
 All othir flouris for the lufe of the ! 
 
 And thankit be the fair castell wall, 
 
 Quhare as I quhilom lukit furth and lent. 
 
 7 saints of March. Thankit mot be the Sanctis marciall', 
 
 That me first causit hath this accident. 
 Thankit mot be the grene bewis bent, 
 
 8 happened tome. Throu quhom, and vnder, first fortunyt me^ 
 
 9 healing. My hcrtis hele', and my confort to be. 
 
THE KINGIS QUAIR. 
 
 73 
 
 For to the presence suete and delitable, 
 Rycht of this floure that full is of plesance, 
 
 By processe and by menys fauorable, 
 First of the blisful goddis purueyance', 
 And syne' throu long and trew contynuance 
 
 Of veray3 faith in lufe and trew seruice, 
 
 I cum am, and [yit] forthir in this wise. 
 
 1 providence. 
 
 2 afterwards. 
 
 3 true. 
 
 Vnworthy, lo, bot onely of hir grace, 
 In lufis yok, that esy is and sure. 
 
 In guerdoune of all my lufis space* 
 Sche hath me talc, hir humble creature. 
 And thus befell my blisfuU auenture. 
 
 In youth, of lufe, that now from day to day 
 
 Flourith ay newe, and yit forthir, I say. 
 
 4 duration. 
 
 Go litill tretise, nakit of eloquence, 
 Causing simplese and pouertee to wit 5; 
 
 And pray the reder to haue pacience 
 Of thy defaute, and to supporten it^, 
 Of his gudnese thy brukilnese to knytt', 
 
 And his tong for to reule and to stere, 
 
 That thy defautis helit may, bene here. 
 
 5 simplicity and 
 
 poverty to be 
 known. 
 
 6 to bear with it. 
 
 7 thy brokenness 
 
 to piece 
 together. 
 
 AUace ! and gif thou cummyst in the presence, 
 
 Quhare as^ of blame faynest thou wald be quite, * Where that 
 
 To here thy rude and crukit eloquens, 
 
 Quho sal be thare to pray for thy remyt'? 
 No wicht, bot geve'° hir merci will admytt 
 
 The for Gud-will, that is thy gyd and stere : 
 
 To quhame for me thou pitousely requere". 
 
 9 excuse. 
 
 10 No person, 
 unless. 
 
 i> do thou 
 piteously 
 entreat. 
 
74 , KING [AMES THE FIRST. 
 
 I MS. fotaii. And thus endith the fatall' influence 
 
 Causit from hevyn, quhare power is commytt 
 Of gouirnance, by the magnificence 
 Of Him that hiest in the hevin sitt ; 
 
 ' ^MV^h'ink ^'^ Quham we thank ^ that all oure [lif] hath writt, 
 
 3 Who could read Quho coutht it red, agonc syne mony a yere^, 
 
 it many a year 
 
 ago. Hich in the hevynnis figure circulere. 
 
 4 hymns. Vnto [thel impnis'' of my maisteris dere, 
 
 MS. inpnis. l j j. j 
 
 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 sauhs 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 effray': 
 Eject vice, and follow treuth alway : 
 
 Lufe maist thy God that first thy lufe began. 
 
 And for ilk^ inche he will the quyte^ ane span. 
 
 Be not ouir" proude in thy prosperitie. 
 For as it cummis, sa will it pas away; 
 
 The tyme to compt^ is schort, thow may weill se, 
 For of grene gress sone cummis wallowit* hay. 
 Labour in treuth, quhilk suith is of thy fay^; 
 
 Traist maist in God, for he best gyde the can. 
 
 And for ilk inche he will the quyte ane span. 
 
 • fear no affright- 
 ing. 
 
 2 each. 
 
 3 requite. 
 
 4 over. 
 
 5 count, reckon. 
 
 6 withered. 
 
 7 which is the 
 truth (substance) 
 of thy faith. 
 
 Sen word is thrall, and thocht is only fre, 
 
 Thou dant^ thy toung, that power hes and may', 9 is n'^ghty."' 
 Thou steik'° thy ene fra warldis vanitie : w close thou. 
 
 Refraine thy lust, and harkin quhat I say : 
 
 Graip or" thow slyde, and keip furth'^ the hie-way, ^^p™?^"*- 
 Thow 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 1 510. 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 
 
So ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 Baron the lands of Spitalfield near Inverkeithing. 
 To each of these documents the name of Magister 
 Robertus Hetiryson, 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 clericus 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 Dunfermelyne he hes done roun 
 With gud Maister Robert Henrisoun. 
 
 * See Appendix to Laing's edition of Henryson, pp. ^^4•S• 
 
ROBERT HENRYSON. 8i 
 
 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 Henr>'Son, a title confined exclusively 
 in those days to persons who had taken an academic j 
 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 we 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 
 1 45 1, and among those incorporated as members 
 appears on loth 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 
 c " 
 
82 ROBERT HENRYS ON. 
 
 means improbable that he became a Fellow of Glasgow | 
 University for the purpose of reading lectures in law." j 
 But it seems as likely that his enrolment, with that j 
 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 157 1, 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 f 
 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. Laing 
 quotes from the Privy Council Register of 13th 
 
 * Lord Hailes' Ancient Scottish Poems, p. 273 ; Sibbald's 
 Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, vol. i., p. 87 ; and Chalmers' 
 Preface to " Robene and Makyne," &c., p. vii., note 2. 
 
 tSee an interesting article on " Music in Early Scotland " by 
 Mr. y. Cuthbcrt Iladden in the Scottish Review for October, 
 1888.' 
 
ROBERT HENRYSON. 83 
 
 October, 1573, a complaint at the instance of 
 "John Henryson 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, without 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 walk, 
 came to ask himself what were the true ideals and 
 the meaning of human existence. The answer at 
 
84 ROBERT HENRYS ON. 
 
 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 18245 
 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 1S65, 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. 
 It suffers 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 
 
ROBERT HENRYSON. S5 
 
 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, 1 
 Henr)'son 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 Uunfermling, much about the time 
 that Chaucer was first printed; and dedicated to 
 King Henry VHL by Mr. Thinne, which was neere 
 the end of his raigne" {i.e., in 1532). 
 
 The historian of Scottish poetry has remarked that 
 
86 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 " 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, was 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 afflicting 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 there 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- 
 
ROBERT HENRYSON. 87 
 
 meaning lines, with which the production of Chaucer 
 is so frequently degraded." ^^'ith 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 fehcitous, 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 fire, 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 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 Most bulky 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 ^sop, each with a moral appended, and the whole 
 introduced by two prologues. Of the Latin collection 
 of fables attributed to the Phrygian yEsop, it is 
 conjectured that the first printed edition was made at 
 Rome, 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 ^sop, 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 HENRYSON. 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 Henr)'son'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 madame 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 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 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 Henryson'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. 
 
 OBENE sat on gud grene hill, 
 Kepand a flok of fe'; 
 Mirry Makyne said him U\\% 
 "Robene, thow rew on'me^; 
 I haif the luvit lowd and still" 
 
 Thir yeiris two or thre ; 
 My dule in dern bot gif thow dill^ 
 Doutless but dreid I de^" 
 
 Robene answerit, " Be the Rude, 
 
 Na-thing of lufe I knaw, 
 Bot keipis my scheip undir yone wude, 
 
 • .o, quhair thay raik on raw'! 
 Quha; hes marrit the in thy mude, 
 
 Makyne, to me thow schaw? 
 Or quhat is lufe or to be lude^? 
 
 Fane wald I leir' that law. 
 
 1 sheep. 
 
 2 to. 
 
 3 have pity on me. 
 
 4 openly and 
 
 secretly. 
 
 5 My secret woe 
 
 unless thou 
 share. 
 
 6 for l.ick of en- 
 
 durance I die 
 
 7 range in row. 
 
 8 loved. 
 
 9 learn. 
 
 "At luvis lair" gife thow will leir, 
 
 Tak thair ane A, B, C ; 
 Be heynd", courtass, and fair of feir'-, 
 
 Wyse, hardy, and fre : 
 
 10 lore. 
 
 ti gentle. 
 »3 carriage. 
 
92 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 I daunt thee. 
 
 3 Whatsoever 
 woe in secret 
 thou endure. 
 
 3 Exert. 
 
 4 wot. 
 
 5 thus uneasy. 
 
 6 glad. 
 
 7 healthy on the 
 
 heights. 
 
 8 If. 
 
 9 bring reproof. 
 
 So that no denger do the deir', 
 
 Quhat dule in dern thow dre"; 
 
 Preiss^ thee with pane at all poweir 
 Be pacient, and previe." 
 
 Robene answerit hir agane, 
 
 " I waif nocht quhat is lufe ; 
 But I haif mervell incertaine, 
 
 Quhat makis the this wanrufe^. 
 The weddir is fair, and I am faneS 
 
 My scheip gois haill aboiP, 
 And^ we wald play us in this plane 
 
 Thay wald us bayth reproiR" 
 
 10 take heed. 
 " advise. 
 
 12 whole. 
 
 13 And also. 
 
 >4 salve for 
 sorrow. 
 
 IS In secret with 
 thee unless I 
 deal. 
 
 "Robene, tak tent" unto my taill, 
 
 And wirk all as I reid", 
 And thow sail haif my hairt all haill", 
 
 Eik and '3 my maidenheid. 
 Sen God sendis bute for bailP^ 
 
 And for murnyng remeid; 
 In dern with thee bot giff I dailps 
 
 Dowtles I am bot deid." 
 
 i6 this same time. 
 
 17 While we have 
 
 lain. 
 IS ill-will have I 
 
 if I tarry. 
 
 »9 stir. 
 
 " Makyne, to-morne this ilka tyde'^ 
 
 And ye will meet me heir 
 Peraventure my scheip may gang besyd 
 
 Quhill we haif liggif' full neir; 
 Bot mawgre haif I and I byd'^ 
 
 Fra thay begin to steir''. 
 Quhat lyis on hairt I will nocht hyd; 
 
 Makyne than mak gud cheir." 
 
ROBENE AND MAKYNE. 
 
 93 
 
 " Robene, thow reivis me roiff' and rest ! 
 
 I luve bot the allane." 
 " Makyne, adew ! the sone gois west, 
 
 The day is neir-hand gane." 
 " Robene, in dule I am so drest'. 
 
 That lufe wil be my bane." 
 " Ga lufe, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list, 
 
 For lemman I luve nane." 
 
 ■ robbest me of 
 quiet. 
 
 » beset. 
 
 "Robene, I stand in sic a style ^ 
 
 I sicht^ and that full sair." 
 " Makyne, I haif bene heir this quhyle, 
 
 At hame God gif I wair^." 
 " My huny, Robene, talk ane quhyle, 
 
 Gif thow will do na mair." 
 " Makyne, sum uthir man begyle. 
 
 For hamewart I will fair." 
 
 3 such a state. 
 
 4 sigh. 
 
 S God grant I 
 were. 
 
 Robene on his wayis went 
 
 Als licht as leif of tre. 
 Mawkyn murnit in hir intent*, 
 
 And trowd him nevir to se. 
 Robene brayd atour the bent'; 
 
 Than Makyne cryit on hie, 
 " Now ma thow sing, for I am schent^; 
 
 Quhat alis lufe at me?" 
 
 6 desire. 
 
 7 "strode 'across 
 the brake." 
 
 8 lost. 
 
 Mawkyne went hame withowttin faill 
 Full wery eftir cowth weip''. 
 
 Than Robene in a ful fair daill'° 
 Assemblit all his scheip. 
 
 9 weary and like 
 to weep. 
 
 «o deal, number. 
 
94 
 
 ROBERT HENRYS ON. 
 
 I to her took 
 good heed. 
 
 » Without 
 dividing. 
 
 3 To have thy 
 
 whole heart 
 mine. 
 
 4 till. 
 
 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 keep'. 
 
 " Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne ! 
 
 A word for ony-thing ! 
 For all my luve it sal be thyne, 
 
 Withowttin departing^ 
 All haill thy harte for till haif myne^ 
 
 Is all my cuvating. 
 My scheip to-morn, quhill'' houris nyne, 
 
 Will neid of no keping." 
 
 S romances. 
 
 6 May add to. 
 
 7 endeavour. 
 
 8 enclosed land. 
 
 9 open pastures. 
 
 10 To walk over 
 everywhere. 
 
 " tattler. 
 
 " Robene, thow hes hard soung and say 
 
 In gestis^ and storeis auld 
 * The man that will nocht quhen he may, 
 
 Sail haif nocht quhen he wald.' 
 I pray to Jesu, every day 
 
 Mot eik* thair cairis cauld, 
 That first preissis^ with the to play 
 
 Be firth^ forrest, or fauld'." 
 
 " 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 quhair'°: 
 Thair ma na janglour" us espy 
 
 That is to lufe contrair ; 
 Thairin, Makyne, bath ye and I 
 
 Unsene we ma repair." 
 
ROBENE AND MAKYNE. 
 
 95 
 
 " Robene, that warld is all away, 
 
 And quyt brocht till ane end ; 
 And nevir agane thairto, perfay', 
 
 Sail it be as thow wend". 
 For of my pane thow maid it play, 
 
 And all in vane I spend ; 
 As thow hes done, sa sail I say, 
 
 Murne on, I think to mend." 
 
 ' by my faith. 
 
 = weened, 
 expected. 
 
 " Makyne, the howp of all my heilP. 
 
 My hairt on the is sett, 
 And evir-mair to the be leill* 
 
 Quhill I may leif, but lett^; 
 Nevir to faill, as utheris feill*, 
 
 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. 
 
 ^ as others fail. 
 
 Makyne went hame blyth anewche^ 
 
 Attour the holtis hair I 
 Robene murnit, and Makyne lewche'; 
 
 Scho sang, he sichit sair'°: 
 And so left him bayth wo and wreuch", 
 
 In dolour and in cair, 
 Kepand his bird under a huche'* 
 
 Amang the holtis hair. 
 
 7 enough. 
 
 8 Over the grey 
 
 hills. 
 
 9 laughed. 
 
 >o sighed sore. 
 
 i> woeful and 
 wretched. 
 
 " cliff. 
 
' Cause make for 
 her body. 
 
 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 male hir body till'. 
 
 Off he'' honour suld be hir hud, 
 
 Upoun hir heid to weir, 
 Garneist with governance so gud, 
 
 Na demyng suld hir deir^. 
 
 Hir sark suld be hir body nixt, 
 
 Of chestetie so quhyt. 
 With schame and dreid togidder mixt, 
 
 The same suld be perfyt. 
 
 4 Laced with 
 
 lawful love. 
 
 5 eyelet-holes of 
 
 continence. 
 
 Hir kirtill suld be of clene Constance, 
 
 Lasit with lesum lufe". 
 The mailyheis of continuance ^ 
 
 For nevir to remufe. 
 
 * Lord Hailes considered this poem "a sort of paraphrase 
 of I Tim. ii., 9-11," and Laing remarks that " 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 consisting of 
 hood, shift, kirtle (or gown and petticoat) tied with laces and 
 adorned with mails or spangles ; an upper gown or robe, purfled 
 and furred, and adorned with ribbons ; a belt ; a mantle or cloak 
 in bad weather; a hat, tippet, patekt, perhaps small ruff; a 
 ribbon about the neck ; sleeves, gloves, shoes and hose.'" 
 
THE GARMOND OF GUDE LADE IS. 
 
 Hir gown suld be of gudliness, 
 Weill ribband with renowne, 
 
 Purfillit with plesour in ilk place', 
 Furrit with fyne fassoun-. 
 
 97 
 
 < each place. 
 » fashion. 
 
 Hir belt suld be of benignitie, 
 About hir middill meit; 
 
 Hir mantill of humilitie, 
 
 To thoU^ bayth wind and weit. 
 
 3 endure. 
 
 Hir hat suld be of fair having*, 
 And hir tepat of trewth, 
 
 Hir patelet of gude pansings, 
 Hir hals-ribbane^ of rewth^, 
 
 Hir slevis suld be of esperance, 
 To keip hir fra dispair; 
 
 Hir gluvis of the gud govirnance, 
 To hyd hir fyngearis fair. 
 
 4 carriage. 
 
 5 Her ruff of good 
 
 thought. 
 
 6 throat-riblxjn. 
 
 7 pity. 
 
 Hir schone' suld be of fickernes', 
 In syne that scho nocht slyd; 
 
 Hir hois of honestie, I ges, 
 I suld for hir provyd. 
 
 8 shoes. 
 
 9 certainty. 
 
 Wald scho put on this garmond gay, 
 I durst sweir by my seill'°, 
 
 That scho woir nevir grene nor gray 
 That set hir half so weill. 
 
 10 happiness, 
 salvation. 
 
 H 
 
 II 
 
THE ABBAY WALK.=^ 
 
 * 
 
 I Ey chance. 
 
 Allone as I went up and doun 
 
 In ane Abbay was fair to se, 
 Thinkand quhat consolatioun 
 
 Was best in-to adversitie ; 
 
 On caiss' 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 seest 
 such examples 
 each day. 
 
 Thy kindome and thy grit empyre. 
 
 Thy ryaltie, nor riche array. 
 Sail nocht endeur at thy desyre, 
 
 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 day-. 
 Obey, and thank thy God of all. 
 
 * This title was given to the poem by Lord Hailes "from a 
 like title given to a popular poem mentioned by Sir James Inglis" 
 in The Complaynt of Scotland. 
 
THE ABB AY WALK. 
 
 99 
 
 Job was maist riche, in Writ we find, 
 
 Thobb maist full of cheritie ; 
 Job woux pure', and Thobb blynd, 
 
 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. 
 
 I waxed poor. 
 
 Thocht^" 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 skilP. 
 
 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. 
 
 a Though. 
 
 3 reprove by 
 reason (of it). 
 
 God of his justice mon" correct 
 
 And of his mercie petie haif; 
 He is ane Juge, to nane suspect^, 
 
 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 erdly' staitis up and doun 
 
 Is nocht bot^ casualitie and chance, 
 Sa' sum men sayis, without ressoun. 
 
 4 must. 
 
 5 by none to be 
 suspected. 
 
 6 over the rest. 
 
 7 earthly. 
 
 8 only. 
 
 9 As. 
 
100 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 Bot be the grit provisioun 
 Of God aboif that rewel the sail ; 
 I ready. Thairfoif evir thow mak the boun' 
 
 To obey, and thank thy God of all. 
 
 » exalt In welth be meik, heich= not thy-self; 
 
 Be glaid in wilfull povertie; 
 Thy power and thy warldis pelf 
 Is nocht bot verry vanitie. 
 Remembir him that deit on tre, 
 For thy saik taistit the bittir gall, 
 3 Who raises Quha heis law hairtis, and lawis he^; 
 
 lowly hearts 
 
 and puts down Obev, and thank thy God of all. 
 
 the high. ' ' ' 
 
THE PRAIS OF AIGE. 
 
 In-tyl ane garth', under ane reid roseir-, 
 
 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 doumeV' he said, in his dytyng*, 
 " For to be young I wald nocht, for my wyss^ 
 
 Of all this warld to male me lord and king : 
 The moyr of aige the nerar hevynis bliss. 
 
 » garden. 
 
 ' a red rose-tree. 
 
 3 As to my fate. 
 
 4 tale, ditty. 
 
 5 after what I 
 
 know. 
 
 " Fals is this warld, and full of varyance, 
 
 Oureset with syt and uther synnys mo*; 
 Now trewth is tynt', gyle hes the governance, 
 
 And wrachitness hes wrocht al weill to wo ; 
 
 Fredoume is tynt, and flemyt^ the lordis fro, 
 And cuvattyce is all the cause of this : 
 
 I am content that yowthheid is ago': 
 The moyr of aige the nerar hevynis blis. 
 
 ' Overcome with 
 sorrow and 
 other pities 
 more. 
 
 7 lost. 
 
 8 driven away. 
 
 9 gone. 
 
 "The stait of yowth I repute" for na gude. 
 For in that stait grit perrcll now I se; 
 
 Can nane gane-stand the rageing of his blude 
 Na yit be stabil quhill that he aigit be": 
 
 '0 esteem. 
 
 " till he be aged. 
 
102 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 Than of the thing that maist rejoysit he, 
 Na-thing remaynis for to be caUit his ; 
 
 For quhy ? it was hot verray vanite : 
 The moyr of aige the nerar hevynis blyss. 
 
 'trust. "This wrechit warld may na man trow'; 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 ! 
 ' '°fa^u7t''"'^ """^ The quhilk God grant us till amend our myss^ 
 That till his joy he may our saulUs send; 
 The moyr of aige the nerar hevynis bliss." 
 
THE TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 
 
 Ane doolie sessoun to ane cairfull dyte' 
 Suld correspond, and be equivalent. 
 
 Richt sa it wes quhen I began to wryte 
 This tragedie, the wedder richt fervent^, 
 Quhen Aries in middis of the Lent ; 
 
 Schouris of haill can fra the north discend, 
 
 That scantlie fra the cauld I micht defend. 
 
 ' A doleful sea5M>n 
 to a tale full 
 of woe. 
 
 2 the weather 
 right severe. 
 
 Yet nevertheles within myne oratur^ 
 
 I stude, quhen Titan had his bemis bricht 
 
 Withdrawin doun, and sylit under cure^ 
 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. 
 
 3 oratory. 
 
 4 concealed 
 under care. 
 
 Throwout the glas hir bemis brast^ 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 Article come quhisling loud and schill*, 
 
 And causit me remufe aganis my will. 
 
 5 burst. 
 
 6 shrill. 
 
104 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 For I traistit that Venus, luifis quene, 
 I promise. To quhomc sum-tyme I hecht' obedience, 
 
 My faidit hart of lufe scho wald mak grene ; 
 And therupon, with humbill reverence, 
 I thocht to pray hir hie magnificence; 
 J was prevented. ]3ot for grcit cauld as than I lattit was% 
 And in my chahner to the fyre can pas. 
 
 3 Though love be j}^Q(,j^j j^fg ^g hait^, yit in ane man of age 
 
 hot. 
 
 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 curage doif and deid'*; 
 
 Of quhilk the fire outward is best remeid, 
 To help be phisike quhair that nature faiUit 
 
 5 attempted. \ am cxpcrt, for baith I have assaiht^ 
 
 6 basked. 
 
 quire, book. 
 
 I mend the fyre, and beikit^ 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, 
 I tuik ane quair'', 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, 
 8 started aside. How Troilus ncir out of wit abraid^ 
 
 xA.nd weipit soir, with visage paill of hew; 
 For quhilk wanhope' his teiris can renew, 
 Quhill'° Esperus rejoisit him agane : 
 Thus quhyle" in joy he levit, quhile in pane. 
 
 9 which despair, 
 
 «o Till. 
 
 " by whiles. 
 
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 ganecome', than sorrow can oppres « coming'again. 
 
 His wofuU hart, in cair and hevines. 
 
 Of his distres me neidis nocht reheirs. 
 
 For worthie Chauceir, in the samin buik. 
 In gudehe termis and in joly veirs 
 
 CompyHt 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 wait- gif all that Chauceir wrait was trew? 2^vho knows. 
 
 Nor I wait nocht gif this narratioun 
 Be authoreist, or fenyeit of the new^ s feigned anew. 
 
 Be sum poeit, throw his inventioun 
 
 Maid to report the lamentatioun 
 And wofuU end of this lustie* Cresseid; 4 pleasant. 
 
 And quhat distres scho thoillit^ and quhat deid^ 
 
 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 commoun. 
 
io6 
 
 ROBERT HENRYS ON. 
 
 O, fair Cresseid ! the floure and A per se 
 Of Troy and Grece, how was thow fortunait 
 
 To change in filth all thy feminitie, 
 . polluted. And be with flescheUe lust sa maculait', 
 
 And go amang the Greikis air and lait, 
 
 Sa giglotlike, takand thy foull plesance ! 
 
 I have pietie thow suld fall sic mischance. 
 
 a censure. Yit ncvcrtheles, quhat-ever men deme^ or say 
 
 3 frailty. In scorncfull langage of thy brukkilnes^ 
 
 I sail excuse, als far furth as I may, 
 
 Thy womanheid, thy wisdome, and fairnes; 
 And quhilk Fortoun hes 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, buf^ fellowschip, on fute 
 
 Disagysit passit far out of the toun 
 Ane myle or twa, 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." 
 
 Quod Calchas, "Douchter, weip thow not thairfoir, 
 
 Peraventure all cummis for the best, 
 
 Welcum to me, thow art full deir ane gest." 
 
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 107 
 
 This auld Calchas, efter the law was tho', ■ tf^en. 
 
 Wes keeper of the tempill, as ane preist, 
 
 In quhilk Venus and hir sone Cupido 
 
 War honourit, and his chahiier was thame neist", '' "•="'• 
 
 To quhilk Cresseid, with baill aneuch^ 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 hy"*; 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 outwailP, s outcast. 
 
 And all in cair translatit is my joy. 
 
 Quha sail me gyde? quha sail me now convoy, 
 Sen* I fra Diomeid and nobill Troylus e since. 
 
 Am clene excludit, as abject odious? 
 
loS 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 I blame. 
 
 s neglected. 
 
 "O fals Cupide, is nane to wyte' bot thow, 
 And thy mother, of lufe the blind goddess ! 
 
 Ye causit me ahvayis 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, 
 
 And I fra luifferis left, and all forlane"." 
 
 Quhen this was said, doun in ane extasie 
 
 Ravischit in spreit, in till 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 hes power of all thing generabill 
 To reuU 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 fierce, bluster. Bot as ane bustcous^ churle on his maneir. 
 
 Come crabitlie with auster luik and cheir. 
 
 4 frosted. 
 
 5 skin. 
 
 6 shivered (?) 
 
 7 hollow. 
 
 8 end-drop. 
 
 9 livid. 
 
 His face fl■osnit^ his lyre^ was lyke the leid, 
 His teith chatterit, and cheverit* with the chin, 
 
 His ene drowpit, how^, sonkin in his heid, 
 Out of his nois the meldrop^ fast can rin. 
 With lippis bla', and cheikis leine and thin. 
 
 The iceschoklis that fra his hair doun hang 
 
 Was wonder greit and as ane speir als lang. 
 
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 
 
 109 
 
 Atouir' his belt his lyart" lokkis lay 
 
 Felterit' unfair, ovirfret* with froistis hoir, 
 
 His garmound and his gyis^ full gay of gray, 
 His widderit weid' fra him the wind out woir, 
 Ane busteous bow within his hand he boir. 
 
 Under his girdill ane flasche of felloun flanis', 
 
 Fedderit with ice and heidit with hailstanis. 
 
 « Over. 
 ' hoary. 
 
 ^^ 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 burelie* face, and browis bricht and brent', ^ f^^f^^'jlnjooth. 
 Upon his heid ane garland wonder gay 
 Of flouris fair, as it had bene in May. 
 
 His voice was cleir, as cristall wer his ene, 
 As goldin wyre sa glitterand was his hair, 
 
 His garmound and his gyis full gay of grene. 
 With golden listis" gilt on everie gair", 
 Ane burelie brand about his middill bair, 
 
 In his right hand he had ane groundin''' speir, 
 
 Of his father the wraith fra us to weir 'I 
 
 Nixt 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 habirgeoun"'', 
 And on his hanche ane roustie fell fachioun'^, 
 
 And in his hand he had ane roustie sword, 
 
 Wrything his face, with mony angrie word. 
 
 10 edges. 
 " strip. 
 
 13 sharpened. 
 
 '3 to ward off the 
 apparition 
 from us. 
 
 «4 helmet and 
 coat of m.til. 
 
 '5 falchion. 
 
no ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 Schaikand his sword, befoir Cupide he come 
 I angry-staring With raid visagc and grislie glowrand ene', 
 
 eyes. ^ u >-■ 
 
 amass. And at his mouth ane buUar^ stude of fome, 
 
 Lyke to ane bair quhetting his tuskis kene, 
 
 3 brawler-like Richt tuilyeour lyke, but temperance in tene^; 
 
 wrath. ' Ane home he blew with mony bosteous brag*, 
 
 4 fierce defiance, q^^jjj^ ^jj jj^jg ^^^^^j ^^^h weir^ hes maid to wag. 
 
 Than fair Phebus, lanterne and lamp of licht 
 Of man and beist, baith frute and flourisching, 
 
 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 bait* Or tyring throw the spheiris drew. 
 
 The first was foyr, with mane als reid as rois, 
 7Eous(Ovid, Callit Eoye'' in-to the Orient: 
 
 Met. 77, 153). 
 
 8 called yEthon. Thc sccund steid to name hecht Ethios^, 
 9 somewhat. Quhitlie and paill, and sum-deilP ascendent; 
 
 loPjTois. The thrid Peros", right hait and richt fervent; 
 
 " Phiegon. Thcjfeird was blak, callit Phlegonie", 
 
 Quhilk roUis Phebus down in-to the sey. 
 
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Venus was thair present, that goddess gay, 
 Her sonnis querrel for to defend, and mak 
 
 Hir awin complaint, cled in ane nyce' 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. 
 
 simple. 
 
 Under smyling scho was dissimulait, 
 Provocative with blenkis' amorous. 
 
 And suddanely changit and alterait, 
 Angrie as ony serpent vennemous, 
 Richt pungitive with wordis odious. 
 
 Thus variant scho was, quha list tak keip^, 
 
 With ane eye lauch, and with the uther weip. 
 
 « glances. 
 
 3 who chooses 
 take heed. 
 
 In taikning'' 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, 
 Mingit^ with cairfull joy, and fals plesance, 
 
 Now hait, now cauld, now blyith, now full of wo, 
 
 Now grene as leif, now widderit and ago^ 
 
 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 sangis^, and singand merilie. 
 
 His hude was reid, heklit atouir his croun^, 
 
 Lyke to ane poeit of the auld fassoun'. 
 
 4 token. 
 
 S INIingled. 
 
 6 withered and 
 gone. 
 
 7 I.e. to music. 
 
 8 hooked over his 
 
 head. 
 
 9 fashion. 
 
112 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 I decked. 
 
 2 attire. 
 
 3 graceful of 
 
 utterance. 
 
 4 practice. 
 
 5 learn. 
 
 * i.e. how to 
 write. 
 
 7 a little. 
 
 8 Asks. 
 
 Boxis he bair with fine electuairis, 
 
 And sugerit syropis for digestioun, 
 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.* 
 
 Nixt efter him come Lady Cynthia, 
 
 The last of all, and swiftest in hir spheir, 
 
 Of colour blak, buskit' 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 hes nane uther. 
 
 Hir gyse' 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 dim 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 facound^ toung and termis exquisite, 
 
 Of rhetorick the prettick* he micht leir^, 
 
 In breif sermone ane pregnant sentence wryte*. 
 Befoir Cupide, veiling his cap alyte^ 
 
 Speiris^ [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 CK ESSE ID. 113 
 
 " Lo!" quod Cupide, "quha will blaspheme the name 
 
 Of his awin god, outher in word or deid, 
 To all goddis he dois baith lak' and schame, « 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. 
 
 3 since. 
 
 " And sen'' ye ar all sevin deificait, 
 
 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 modifie^: 3 formuu-ite. 
 
 As God Saturne, with him tak Cynthia." 
 
 " I am content," quod he, " to tak thay twa." 
 
II 4 ROBERT HENRYS ON. 
 
 Than thus proceidit Saturne and the Mone, 
 Quhen thay the mater rypeHe 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 cairfuU Cresseid lay, 
 
 And on hir heid he laid ane frostie wand. 
 Than lawfuUie on this wyse can he say; 
 "Thy greit fairnes, and all thy bewtie gay, 
 
 Thy wantoun blude, and eik thy goldin hair, 
 
 Heir I 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." 
 
 O 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 wraikfulP Sentence gevin on fair Cresseid. 
 
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 
 
 Than Cynthia, quhen Saturne past away, 
 Out of hir sait discendit down belyve', 
 
 And red ane bill on Cresseid quhair scho lay, 
 Contening this sentence diffinityve, 
 "Fra heile^ of bodie I thd now deprive. 
 
 And to thy seiknes sal be na recure, 
 
 But in dolour thy dayis to indure. 
 
 "5 
 
 ' quickly. 
 
 ' health. 
 
 "Thy cristall ene minglit with blude I mak, 
 Thy voice sa cleir unplesand hoir and hace^ 
 
 Thy lustie lyre-* ouirspred with spottis blak, 
 And lumpis haw^ appeirand in thy face; 
 Quhair thow cummis ilk man sail fle the place, 
 
 This sail thow go begging fra hous to hous, 
 
 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 wait*! 
 
 Weiping full sair, " Lo ! quhat it is," quod sche, 
 " With fraward langage for to mufe and steir 
 
 Our craibit goddis, and sa is sene on me ! 
 My blaspheming now have I bocht full dcir, 
 All eirdly joy and mirth I set areir^ 
 
 Allace this day ! allace this wofull tyde ! 
 
 Quhen I began with my goddis for to chyde!" 
 
 3 aged (hoar) .ind 
 
 hoarse. 
 
 4 beauteous skin. 
 
 5 livid. 
 
 6 woeful enough, 
 God knows. 
 
 7 behind. 
 
ii6 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 1 afterwards. 
 
 2 in haste. 
 
 3 grovelling, 
 
 lit. on belly. 
 
 4 somewhat. 
 
 Be this was said ane chyld come fra the hall 
 To warne Cresseid the supper was reddy ; 
 
 First knokkit at the dure, and syne' culd call, 
 " Madame, your father biddis you cum in hy', 
 He has mervell sa lang on group ye ly ; 
 
 And sayis, Your prayers bene too lang sum-deill\ 
 
 The goddis wait all your intent full weill." 
 
 5 wreaking. 
 
 Quod 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 cheir?" 
 "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 wraik^, 
 
 For hir trespas, Cupide on hir culd tak. 
 
 He luikit on hir uglye lipper face, 
 The quhilk befor was quhite as lillie flour ; 
 
 Wringand his handis oftymes, he said, Allace, 
 That he had levit to se that wofull 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. 
 
 8 earth. 
 
 9 fate. 
 
 Quhen thay togidder murnit had full lang, 
 
 Quod Cresseid, " Father, I wald not be kend*, 
 
 Thairfoir in secreit wyse ye let me gang'', 
 Unto yone hospitall at the tounis end; 
 And thidder sum meit for cheritie me send 
 
 To leif upon ; for all mirth in this eird® 
 
 Is fra me gane, sic is my wickit weird'." 
 
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. u; 
 
 Than in ane mantill, and ane bavar hat, 
 
 With cop and clapper, wonder prively 
 He opnit ane secreit yett', and out thairat 'gate. 
 
 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 bylis' blak ovirspred in hir visage, sboik. 
 
 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 hir 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 berbery^; fare and 
 
 But meit" or drink scho dressit hir to ly 4 without. 
 
 In ane dark corner of the hous allone. 
 
 And on this wyse, weiping, scho maid hir mone. 
 
 * Sir Walter Scott in the notes to his edition of Sir Trisirem, 
 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 Henr)' I\'. 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." 
 
ii8 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 The Complaint of Cresseid. 
 
 " O sop of sorrow sonken into cair ! 
 
 O, cative Cresseid ! now and ever-mair 
 I earth. Ganc is thy joy and all thy mirth in eird', 
 
 = blackened bare. Of all blyithncs now art thow blaiknit bair". 
 
 Thair is na salve may saif the of thy sair ! 
 
 3 evil is thy fate. Fell is thy fortoun, wickit is thy weirdy 
 
 4 thy woe putting xhv blys is bancist, and thy baill on breird'*, 
 
 forth leaf. ■' "^ 
 
 Under the eirth God gif I gravin wer, 
 
 Quhair nane of Grece nor yit of Troy micht heird ! 
 
 5 furnished. 
 
 6 pleasant. 
 
 7 abundant 
 
 embroidered 
 tapestries. 
 
 8 beauty. 
 
 9 saffron (?)sauce, 
 
 ■o seasoning. 
 
 II pni. 
 1= behind. 
 
 " Quhair is thy chalmer wantounlie besene^ 
 With burely^ bed, and bankouris browderit bene^, 
 
 Spycis and wyne to thy collatioun, 
 The cowpis all of gold and silver schene^, 
 The sweit meitis servit in plaittis clene, 
 
 With saipheron sals' of ane gude sessoun'°, 
 
 Thy gay garmentis with mony gudely goun, 
 Thy plesand lawn pinnit with goldin prene"? 
 
 All is areir'-, thy greit royall renoun ! 
 
 13 piece. 
 
 14 thrush. 
 
 15 go. 
 
 16 persons. 
 
 17 green. 
 
 " Quhair is thy garding with thir greissis gay, 
 And fresche flowris, quhilk the Quene Floray 
 
 Had paintit plesandly on everie pane '3, 
 Quhair thow was wont full merilye in May 
 To walk, and tak the dew be it was day. 
 
 And heir the merle and mavis''* mony ane. 
 
 With ladyis fair in carrolling to gane'^, 
 And se the royal rinks'* in thair array, 
 
 In garmentis gay, garnischit on everie grane''? 
 
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 
 
 119 
 
 " Thy greit triumphand fame and hie honour, 
 Quhair thow was callit of eirdlye wichtis flour, 
 
 All is decayit; thy weird is welterit so', 
 Thy hie estait is turnit in darknes dour"! 
 This Upper ludge tak for thy burelie bour, 
 
 And for thy bed tak now ane bunche of stro, 
 
 For waillit^ wyne and meitis thow had tho-*, 
 Tak mowlit^ breid, peirrie^ 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 ruik^, full hiddeous hoir and hace; 
 My plesand port all utheris precelling, 
 Of lustines^ I was hald maist conding', 
 
 Now is deformit; the figour of my face 
 
 To luik on it na leid'° now lyking hes : 
 Sowpit in syte", I say with sair siching, 
 
 Ludgeit amang the Upper leid, Allace ! 
 
 " O ladyis fair of Troy and Grece attend 
 My miserie, quhilk nane may comprehend, 
 
 My frivoU 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 war", gif ony war may be. 
 
 " Nocht is your fairnes lot ane faiding flour, 
 Nocht is your famous laud and hie honour 
 
 » thy fate ii 
 tossed so. 
 
 - hard. 
 
 3 chosen. 
 
 4 then. 
 
 5 mouldy. 
 
 6 small ale(7) 
 
 7 hoarse as rook. 
 
 8 beauty. 
 
 9 agreeable. 
 
 «o man. 
 
 »« Drenched ia 
 grief. 
 
 12 worse. 
 
I20 
 
 ROBERT HENRY SON. 
 
 Bot wind inflat in uther mennis eiris ; 
 Your roising reid to rotting sail retour. 
 Exempill male of me in your memour, 
 
 Quhilk of SIC thingis wofull witnes beiris. 
 
 All welth in eird away as wind it weiris: 
 Be-war, thairfoir, approchis neir the hour 3 
 . stirs. Fortoun is fikkill quhen scho beginnis and steiris'." 
 
 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 wend^ 
 
 And said, " Quhy spurnis thow aganis the wall. 
 To sla thyself, and mend na-thing at all? 
 
 " Sen thy weiping dowbillis bot thy wo, 
 
 I counsall the mak vertew of ane neid ; 
 To leir to clap thy clapper to and fro, 
 
 3 leper folk. And leir efter the law of lipper leid^" 
 
 4 help. Thair was na buif*, bot furth with thame scho yeid= 
 
 5 went. 
 
 Fra place to place, quhill cauld and hounger sair 
 6 importunate. Compellit hir to be ane rank® 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 CE ESSE ID. 
 
 121 
 
 Seing that companie thai come all with ane stevin', ' 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 blenk"" it come in-to his thocht 
 
 That he sum tyme hir face befoir had sene ; 
 Bot scho was in sic plye^ 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. 
 
 = glance. 
 
 3 such plight. 
 
 Na wonder was, suppois* in mynd that he 
 Tuik hir figure sa sone, and lo, now, quhy : 
 
 The idole of ane thing in cace^ 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 hait 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. 
 
 4 although. 
 
 S chance. 
 
122 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 I cast heavily. 
 
 a ofttimes. 
 
 3 whisper. 
 
 4 knowledge. 
 
 5 noble. 
 
 6 stun of pain. 
 
 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 swak': 
 Than raid away, and not ane word he spak, 
 
 Pensive in hart, quhill he come to the toun, 
 
 And for greit cair oft-syis= almaist fell doun. 
 
 The lipper folk to Cresseid than can draw, 
 To se the equall distributioun 
 
 Of the almous, but quhan the gold they saw 
 Ilk ane to uther prevelie can roun^, 
 And said, " Yone lord hes mair affectioun, 
 
 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 feillS 
 Hes done to us so greit humanitie?" 
 
 " Yes," quod a hpper man, " I knaw him weill : 
 Schir Troylus it is, gentill and fre^." 
 Quhen Cresseid understude that it was he 
 
 Stiffer than steill thair stert ane bitter stound^ 
 
 Throwout hir hart, and fell doun to the ground. 
 
 7 bested. 
 
 8 at loss for a 
 
 dwelling. 
 
 Quhen scho, ovircome with siching sair and sad, 
 With mony cairfull cry and cald " Ochane ! 
 
 Now is my breist with stormie stoundis stad", 
 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 : — 
 
 " O, fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troylus ! 
 
 8 " 
 
TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID. 123 
 
 "Thy lufe, thy lawtie', and thy gentilnes 'loyalty. 
 
 I countit small in my prosperities 
 Sa elevait I was in wantones, 
 
 And clam upon the fickill quheill- sa hie; -/.<•. of Fortune. 
 
 ^ ^ ' See KingU 
 
 All faith and lufe I promissit to the Quair. 
 
 Was in the self fickill and frivolous : 
 O, fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troylus ! 
 
 " For lufe of me thow keipt gude continance, 
 
 Honest and chaist in conversatioun ; 
 Of all wemen protectour and defence 
 
 Thow was, and helpit thair opinioun. 
 
 My mynd in fleschelie foull affectioun 
 Was inclynit to lustis lecherous. 
 Fy, fals Cresseid ! O, 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 : 
 Preif ^ quhen ye will, your labour is in vaine. ^ Trj-. 
 
 Thairfoir I reid* ye tak thame as ye find, 4 counsel. 
 
 For thay ar sad as widdercock^ in wind. 5 serious .as 
 
 weather-vane. 
 
 " Becaus I knaw the greit unstabilnes, 
 
 BrukkiP as glas, into my-self I say, s brittle. 
 
 Traisting in uther als greit unfaithfulnes, 
 
 Als unconstant, and als untrew of fay. 
 
 Thocht sum be trew, I wait richt few are thay. 
 Quha findis treuth, lat him his lady ruse'; 7 extol. 
 
 Nane but myself, as now, I will accuse." 
 
124 
 
 ROBERT HENRYS ON. 
 
 J bequeath. 
 ' toads. 
 
 3 troth-token. 
 
 4 known. 
 
 S marshes. 
 
 Quhen this was said, with paper scho sat doun, 
 And on this maneir maid hir testament : 
 
 "Heir I beteiche' my corps and carioun 
 With wormis and with taidis^ 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 ruble reid, 
 Quhilk Troylus in drowrie^* to me send. 
 
 To him agane I leif it quhan I am deid, 
 To mak my cairfull deid unto him kend*: 
 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 wellis^. 
 
 6 expired. 
 
 7 Afterwards. 
 
 "O, Diomeid! thow hes baith broche and belt 
 
 Quhilk Troylus gave me in takning 
 Of his trew lufe." — And with that word scho swelt*. 
 
 And sone ane lipper man tuik of the ring, 
 
 Syne^ buryit hir withouttin tarying. 
 To Troylus furthwith the ring he bair, 
 And of Cresseid the deith he can declair. 
 
 8 ready. 
 
 Quhen he had hard hir greit infirmitie, 
 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 boun^: 
 
 Siching 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 letteris 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 worschip' and instructioun, i honour. 
 
 Of cheritie I monische and exhort 
 
 Ming'' not your lufe with fals deceptioun ; = 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. 
 
 ' radiance. 
 
 In middis of June, that joly sweit seasoun, 
 Quhen that fair Phebus with his bemis bricht 
 
 Had dryit up the dew fra daill and doun, 
 And all the land maid with his lemis' Hcht, 
 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 gyde^ 
 
 Sweit wes the smell of flouris quhyte and reid. 
 The noyis of birdis richt delitious, 
 
 The bewis^ 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 forthy^ 
 
 3 boughs. 
 
 4 therefore. 
 
 stbushes and 
 twigs. 
 
 6 did make. 
 
 7 hillside. 
 
 The roisis reid arrayit on rone and ryce^, 
 The prymerois and the purpour viola; 
 
 To heir it wes ane poynt of Paradyce, 
 
 Sic mirth the mavis and the merle couth ma^. 
 The blossummis blyith brak up on bank and bra^, 
 
 The smell of herbis, and of foullis cry. 
 
 Contending quha suld haif the victorie. 
 
PROLOGUE. 127 
 
 Me to conserve then fra the sonnis heit, 
 
 Under the schadovv of ane hawthorne grene 
 I lenit doun amang the flouris sweit, 
 
 Syne' cled my heid and closit baith my ene. • Presently. 
 
 On sleip I fell amang thir bewis bene*, = abundant. 
 
 And, in my dreme, methocht come throw the schaw^^^'vert. 
 The fairest man that euer befoir I saw. 
 
 His gowne wes of ane claith als quhyte as milk, 
 
 His chymeris* wes of chambelote= purpour broun ; ^ '°''**= '•k'^' 
 
 ■' i. v J gown. 
 
 His hude of scarlet, bordourit weill with silk, = "■"''' '^'"''^ 
 
 On hekillit wyis* untill his girdill doun; 6 in manner of a 
 
 cock s neck- 
 
 His bonat round and of the auld fassoun ; feathers. 
 
 His beird wes quhyte, his ene wes greit and gray, 
 With lokker'' hair, quhilk ouer his schulderis lay. 7 curling. 
 
 Ane roll of paper in his hand he hair, 
 Ane swannis pen stikkand under his eir, 
 
 Ane inkhorne, with ane prettie gilt pennair^, « pen-case. 
 
 Ane bag of silk, all at his belt can beir: 
 Thus was he gudelie graithit' in his geir. 9 clad. 
 
 Of stature large and with ane feirfuU face 
 
 Evin quhair I lay he come ane sturdie pace; 
 
 And said, "God speid, my sone:" and I wes fane '"-o glad. 
 
 Of that couth" word and of his cumpanie. ■•familiar. 
 
 With reverence I salusit him agane, 
 
 "Welcome, father:" and he sat doun me by. 
 
 " Displeis you nocht, my gude maister, thocht I " " '''°"sh i- 
 Demand your birth, your facultie, and name, 
 Quhy ye come heir, or quhair ye dwell at hame?" 
 
S knows. 
 
 ,28 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 " My sone," said he, " I am of gentill blude. 
 
 My native land is Rome, withouttin nay, 
 •went. And in that towne first to the scuHs I yude', 
 
 In civile law studyit full mony ane day,* 
 a dwelling. And now my winning^ is in hevin for ay. 
 
 3 am called. Esope I hccht^; my wry ting and my werk 
 
 4 known. Is couth and kend^ to mony cunning clerk." 
 
 "O Maister Esope, poet laureate, 
 
 God waits ye ar full deir welcum to me. 
 
 Ar ye nocht he that all thir fabillis wrait 
 Quhilk in effect, suppois they fenyeit be^ 
 
 6 though they be ,...,,, 
 
 feigned. Ar fuU of prudence and moralitie? 
 
 "Fair sone," said he, "I am the samin man." 
 God wait gif that my hert 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 me-think richt few or nana 
 To Goddis word that hes devotioun. 
 
 The eir is deif, the hart is hard as stane, 
 Now oppin sin without correctioun, 
 The ee inclynand to the eirth ay doun. 
 
 Sa roustie is the warld with canker blak 
 
 That now my taillis may lytill succour mak." 
 
 * Laing suggests that Henryson may in this passage be 
 describing his own experience. 
 
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 denyie' to say. 'deign. 
 
 Quha wait nor I may leir- and beir away • leain. 
 
 Sum-thing thairby heirefter may availl?" 
 
 " I grant," quod he, and thus begouth ane taill. 
 
 II 
 
THE TAILL OF THE UPLANDIS 
 MOUS AND THE BURGES 
 MOUS. 
 
 EsoPE, myne author, maids mentioun 
 Of twa myis, and thay wer sisteris deir, 
 I a royal Qf ciuham the eldest dwelt in ane borrowis toun', 
 
 borough. _ , ^ „, . ^ 
 
 = dwelt in the The uther wynnit uponland weill neir*, 
 
 conveniently Richt solitar, quhylcs under busk and breir, 
 
 near. • i • i_ ^ 
 
 3 damage. Quhylis in the come, and uther mennis skaith^, 
 
 4 chance ^^ outlawis dois, and levis on thair waith''. 
 
 gettings. 
 
 This rurall Mous in-to the wynter-tyde 
 5 suffered. Had hunger, cauld, and tholit^ greit distress; 
 
 The uther Mous that in the burgh can byde 
 Wes gild-brother and maid ane free burgess, 
 
 6 without taxes. ToU-fre als, but custum'^ mair or less, 
 
 And fredome had to ga quhair-ever scho list, 
 
 7 chest. Amang the cheis in ark and meill in kist^. 
 
 Ane tyme quhen scho wes full and unfute-sair 
 
 Scho tuke in mynde hir sister uponland. 
 And langit for to heir of hir weilfair, 
 
 8 in state of To sc quhat lyfe scho had under the wand^; 
 
 subjection. 
 
 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 UPLAND IS MO US. 
 
 i3» 
 
 Furth mony wilsum' wayis can scho walk, 'lonely. 
 
 Throw mosse and muir, throw bankis, busk, and breir 
 Scho ranne cr\'and, quhill scho cam to ane balk', ""f^j"*^'^ 
 
 "Cum furth to me my awin sister deir! 
 
 Cry peip anis^!" With that the Mous culd heir, 3 once. 
 And knew her voce, as kinnisman will do. 
 Be verray kynd*, and furth scho come hir to. * '^yy^n 
 
 kinship. 
 
 The hartlie^ joy, Lord God ! gif ye had sene, s cordial. 
 
 Was kithit^ quhen that thir twa sisteris met, « shown. 
 And greit kyndenes was schawin thame betuene; 
 
 For quhylis thay leuch, and quhylis for joy they gret^ i wept. 
 
 Quhylis kissit sweit, and quhylis in armis plet^; s folded. 
 
 And thus thay fure quhilP soberit wes thair mude, 9 fared till. 
 
 Syne fute for fute unto the chalmer yude'°. «owent. 
 
 As I hard say, it was ane sober wane" 
 Of fog'- and fairn full febillie wes maid, 
 
 Ane sillie scheill'^ under ane steidfast stane, 
 Of quhilk the entres wes nocht hie nor braid; 
 And in the samyn thay went but mair abaid'"*, 
 
 Withoutin fyre or candill birnand i)richt. 
 
 For commounlie sic pykeris'^ luffis not licht. 
 
 Quhen thay wer lugit thus, thir selie'* myse. 
 The youngest sister unto hir 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 daylic fude?" 
 
 " Quhy not," quod scho, " is nocht this mcit rycht 
 gudc ? " 
 
 " dwelling. 
 
 '2 moss. 
 
 '3 A frail shelling, 
 shelter. 
 
 «4 without more 
 delay. 
 
 'S such pilferers. 
 
 «6 these poor. 
 
132 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 "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 wame: 
 I keip the rate and custume of my dame, 
 
 And of my leving in-to povertie, 
 
 For landis haif we nane in propertie." 
 
 1 These 
 
 withered. 
 
 2 ere. 
 
 3 lank. 
 
 " 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 widderit' peis and nuttis, or^ thay be bord, 
 Will brek my teith and mak my wame full sklender\ 
 Quhilk wes befoir usit to meittis tender." 
 
 4 lodging. 
 
 5 messes, 
 provisions. 
 
 "Weill, Weill, sister," quod the rurall Mous, 
 "Gif it pleis yow, sic thingis as ye se heir, 
 
 Baith meit and drink, harberie" 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. 
 
 6 give possession 
 of. 
 
 7 ill-humoured 
 look. 
 
 " Quhat plesure is in feistis delicate. 
 
 The quhilkis ar gevin with ane glowmand brow? 
 Ane gentill hart is better recreat 
 
 With blyith curage than seith'^ till him ane kow: 
 
 Ane modicum is mair for till allow, 
 Swa that gude-will be kerver at the dais. 
 Than thrawin vult^ and mony spycit mais." 
 
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 hething', • scom. 
 
 "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 Pace'. » Easter-feast. 
 
 My dische-weschingis is worth your hailP expcnce;3 whole. 
 
 I half housis anew* of greit defence; 4 enough. 
 
 Of cat nor fall-trap I haif na dreid." 
 "I grant," quod scho; and on togidder thay yeid^. swent. 
 
 In stubbill array, throw rankest gers and corne, 
 
 And under buskis^, prevelie couth they creip. shushes. 
 
 The eldest wes the gyde and went beforne. 
 
 The younger to hir wayis tuke gude keip^ ' heed. 
 
 On nicht thay ran, and on the day can sleip, 
 
 Quhill in the morning or the laverock sang^ s ere lark sang. 
 
 Thay fand the toun, and in blythlie couth gang', 'did go. 
 
 Nocht fer fra thyne'° unto ane worthie wane "thence. 
 
 This burges brocht thame sone quhar thai suld be. 
 Without God speid thair herberie wes tane 
 
 In-to ane spence" with vittell greit plcntic, "i.irder. 
 
 Baith cheis and butter upone thair skelfis hie'=, >= shelves high. 
 And flesche and fische aneuch, baith fresche and salt, 
 And sekkis full of meill and oik of malt. 
 
134 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 Efter, quhen thay disposit wer to dyne, 
 I washed. Withouttin grace thay wesche' and went to meit, 
 
 With all the coursis that cuikis culd defyne, 
 9 cut off in great Muttoun and beif strikin in tailyeis greit^; 
 
 slices. 
 
 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 upcast^ and merie countenance 
 
 4 asked her The cldcst sister sperit at hir gaist", 
 
 guest. ^ 
 
 Gif that scho be ressone fand difference 
 s sorry. Bctuix that chalmer and hir sarie^ nest? 
 
 "Yea dame," quod scho, " How lang will this lest?" 
 * wou « For evermair, I wait^, and langer to." 
 
 "Gif it be swa ye ar at eis," quod scho. 
 
 7 To add to. Til eik' thair cheir ane subcharge^ furth scho brocht, 
 
 o second course. "-^ 
 
 9 oats with husks Anc plait of grottis^ and ane dische full of meill, 
 
 removed. 
 
 •0 wheaten cakes. Thraf-caikkis'° als I trow scho spairit nocht 
 
 Aboundantlie about hir for to deill, 
 " a rich bread. And manc" fyne scho brocht in-steid of geill'^ 
 
 1= jelly. ■' ^ ' 
 
 '3 stolen. And ane quhyte candill out of ane coffer stall '^ 
 
 In-steid of spyce to gust thair mouth withall. 
 
 Mtiii. Thus maid thay merie quhill'" 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, 
 «3 butler. The Spenser '5 come with keyis in his hand, 
 
 Opinit the dure, and thame at denner fand. 
 
THE UPLAND IS MO US. 
 
 135 
 
 Thay tarj'it nocht to wesche as I suppose, 
 But on to ga quha that micht formest win'. 
 
 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 reid', 
 
 For veray dreid scho fell in swoun neir dcid. 
 
 ■ attain. 
 
 : at a loss for 
 good counsel. 
 
 Bot, as God wald, it fell ane happy cace^ 3ch.ince. 
 
 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?" 
 
 This rural Mous lay flailing on the ground, 
 And for the deith scho wes full sair dredand, 
 
 For till hir hart straik mony wofull stound*; 
 As in ane fever scho trimbillit fute and hand, 
 And quhan hir sister in sic ply^ hir fand, 
 
 For verray pietie scho began to greit^ 
 
 Syne confort hir with wordis hunny sweit. 
 
 4 pain-shocks. 
 
 5 such plight. 
 
 6 weep. 
 
 " Quhy ly ye thus ? 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 levir^ thir fourtie dayis fast, 
 With watter-cailP, and to gnaw benis or peis, 
 Than all your feist, in this dreid and discis." 
 
 7 liefer, rather. 
 
 8 broth made 
 
 without meal. 
 
136 
 
 ROBERT HENRYS ON. 
 
 t caused. 
 
 a Grimalkin. 
 3 seized. 
 
 4 plaj'ful. 
 
 5 Sometimes. 
 
 6 hide-and-seek. 
 
 7 partition. 
 
 8 claw. 
 
 9 prevent. 
 
 With fair tretie yit scho gart' hir upryse, 
 
 And to the burde thay went and togidder sat, 
 
 And scantlie had thay drunkin anis or twyse 
 Quhen in come Gib-Hunter, our joHe cat, 
 And bad God-speid. The burges up with that, 
 
 And till the hoill scho went as fyre of flint. 
 
 Bawdronis^ the uther be the bak hes hint\ 
 
 Fra fute to fute he kest hir to and fra, 
 
 Quhylis up, quhylis doun, als cant" as ony kid. 
 
 Quhylis^ wald he lat hir run under the stra, 
 
 Quhylis wald he wink, and play with her buk-hid'^ 
 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 parpalling^ 
 
 Scho clam so hie that Gilbert micht not get hir, 
 
 Syne be the cluke^ thair craftelie can hing 
 Till he wes gane, hir cheir wes all the bettir; 
 Syne doun scho lap quhen thair wes nane to let' 
 hir, 
 
 And to the burges Mous loud can scho cry, 
 
 " Fairweill, sister, thy feist heir I defy ! " 
 
 'o Thy feast is 
 minsled. 
 
 >i sauce. 
 
 "Thy mangerie is myngit'° all with cair, 
 
 Thy guse is gude, thy gansell" sour as gall; 
 
 The subcharge of thy service is bot sair, 
 So sail thow find heir-efterwart may fall. 
 " partition wall. \ thank youc courtyne and yone perpall wall' 
 
 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 kith' that I come fra, • familiar place. 
 
 For Weill nor wo, suld never cum agane." 
 With that scho tuke hir leif and furth can ga, 
 
 Quhylis throw the come and quhylis throw the 
 plane. 
 
 Quhen scho wes furth and fre scho wes ful fane', *siad. 
 And merilie merkit^ unto the mure. 3 has^icd, /»v. 
 
 I can nocht tell how efterwart scho fure^ ♦fared. 
 
 Bot I hard say scho passit to hir den, 
 
 Als warme als woll, suppose ^ it wes nocht greit, s although. 
 
 Full benely stuffit, baith but and ben^ '^ShS 
 
 Of beinis and nuttis, peis, ry, and quheit ; ancnnner' 
 
 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, and' ye will tak hcid, '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 namelie** thay quhilk climmis up maist hie, » notoriously. 
 That ar nocht content with small possessioun. 
 
 Blissit be sempill lyfe withoutin drcid ! 
 
 Blissit be sober feist in quyetie ! 
 Quha hes aneuch, of na mair hcs he ncid, 
 
 Thocht it be lytill in-to quantitie. 
 
J security. 
 
 138 
 
 ROBERT HENRYSON. 
 
 Greit abondance and blind prosperitie 
 Oftymes makis ane evill conclusioun. 
 
 The sweitest lyfe thairfor in this cuntrie 
 Is sickernes', with small possessioun. 
 
 O wantoun man that usis for to feid 
 
 Thy wambe, and makis it ane god to be, 
 = without fear. Luik to thy-sclf ! I warne thee wele, but dreid": 
 
 The cat cummis and to the mous hes ee. 
 
 Quhat vaillis than thy feist and rialtie. 
 With dreidfull 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 fyrc, my friend, sa it be bot ane gleid^, 
 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. 
 
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 DUNBAR. 
 
 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. Irving quotes from Sir Philip Sidney's Apologie for Poetry 
 a remark upon the similarity between the European word "poet," 
 from the Greek ■jroniy, to make, and the native northern term 
 "makar," or maker ; "which name, how high and incomparable 
 a title it is, I had rather were knowne by marking the scope of 
 other sciences, then by my partiall 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 ;^io 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 Cristmas 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 VIL two separate gifts of ;£6 
 
 13s. 4d., and on his return to Edinburgh the 
 
 Treasurer's accounts show him to have received jQ$ 
 
 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., by 
 Dr. ^neas Mackay (Introduction to Dunbar), who notes that 
 though the reference is to Dunbar, it was Foreman who was the 
 Protonotary. 
 
WILLIAM DUNBAR. 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 15 10 to ^80, to 
 
 be paid until he should be promoted to a benefice 
 
 of p^ioo or more. And in 15 11 he appears to 
 
 have been in the queen's train when she visited the 
 
 north of S' otland, 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 Hcvin's 
 T 11 
 
146 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 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 keep 
 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 
 I St April, 15 1 3. 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 15 13 to 1515, and from 15 18 
 to 1522 having been lost. And it is just possible that 
 
WILLIAM DUNBAR. 147 
 
 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 15 17, 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, 
 with 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, was 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 5z: Myllar 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 
 
WILLIAM DUNBAR. 149 
 
 was issued in 1S75 ; in 1873 appeared in Edinburgh 
 " The Works of William Dunbar, including his Life," 
 by James Paterson ; and in 1SS3 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. ^neas 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 " 
 
I50 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 Lr.nghorne 
 in his Genius and Valour it was named as the chief 
 work of its author. 
 
 In nervous strains Dunbar's bold music flows 
 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 has 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 Women 
 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 Canterlmry 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 
 
152 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 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 Midsumer ewin, mirriest of nichtis, 
 I muvit furth allane, neir as midnicht wes past, 
 Besyd ane gudlie grein garth, full of gay flouris, 
 Hegeit of ane huge hicht with hawthorne treis, 
 Quhairon ane bird on ane bransche so birst out hir notis 
 That neuer ane blythfuUar 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 dynnit the foulis. 
 
 I hard, vnder ane holyn hewinlie grein hewit, 
 Ane hie speiche, at my hand, with hautand wourdis ; 
 With that in haist to the hege so hard I inthrang 
 That I was heildit with hawthorn and with heynd leveis. 
 Throw pykis of the plet thorne I presandlie luikit 
 Gif ony persoun wald approche within that plesand garding. 
 
 I saw thre gay ladeis sit in ane grein arbeir. 
 All grathit in-to garlandis of fresche gudelie flouris. 
 So glitterit as the gold wer thair glorius gilt tressis, 
 Quhill all the gressis did gleme of the glaid hewis. 
 Kemmit was thair cleir hair, and curiouslie sched 
 
WILLIAM DUNBAR. 153 
 
 Attour thair schulderis doun schyre, schyning full bricht, 
 With curches, cassin thame abone, of kirsp 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 ferlifuU 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 r>'allie about with mony rich wardour, 
 That Nature full nobillie annamalit fine with flouris 
 Off alkin hewis under hewin that ony heynd knew, 
 Fragrant, all full of fresche odour fynest of smell, 
 Ane marbre labile coverit wes befoir 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 churle I chaip suld for cuir. 
 
 God gif matrimony were made to mell for ane yeir ! 
 
 It war bot monstrous to be mair bot gif our myndis plcisit. 
 
 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 DUNBAR, 
 
 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 
 and Matteo Franco, who were nevertheless close 
 friends, and that in our country the example of 
 Dunbar and Kennedy was followed by James V. 
 
WILLIAM DUNBAK. 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 Foesie. 
 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 Damian 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, Damian, 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 grievartce 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 
 is 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 DUNBAR. 157 
 
 uniformly sad. Youth and loveliness, bravery and 
 wit, all come to an end, and even the poets, for all 
 their sweet ser\nce, 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 eleg}' 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."! 
 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, ]). 215. 
 \ Memoirs of George Bannaty tie, 1829, i). 14. 
 
158 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 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 Hfe, 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 stern of day hegouth to schyne, 
 Quheii gone to bed war Vesper and Lucyne, 
 I raise and by a rosere' did me rest; 
 
 Wp sprang the goldyn candill matutyne 
 With clere depurit bemes cristallyne, 
 
 Glading the mirry fouUs in thair nest; 
 
 Or'' Phebus was in purpur kaip revest 
 Wp sprang the lark, the hevinis menstralc fyne, 
 
 In May, in-till a morow' myrthfullest. 
 
 Full angellike thir birdis sang thair houris-* 
 Within thair courtyns^ grene in-to thair bouris, 
 
 Apparalit quhyte and red, wyth blumys sucte; 
 Anamalit was the felde wyth all colouris, 
 The perly droppis schuke in silvir schouris, 
 
 Quhill all in balme did branch and levis flete^ 
 
 Depairt fra Phebus, did Aurora grete^ 
 Hir cristall teris I saw hyng on the flouris, 
 
 Quhilk he for lufe all drank vp willi his hcte. 
 
 « rose-tree. 
 
 1 morning. 
 
 4 morning 
 
 prayers. 
 
 5 gardens. 
 
 6 float. 
 
 7 weep. 
 
 For mirth of May, wyth skippis and wyth hoppis, 
 
 The birdis sang vpon the tender croppis"* itrceiopi. 
 
 With courius note, as Venus chapel! clerkis : 
 The rosis reid, now spreding of thair knoppis', 9knob». lufu. 
 
i6o 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 beryl. 
 
 = over-spilled. 
 
 War powderit brycht with hevinly beriall' droppis, 
 Throu hemes rede birnyng as ruby sperkis; 
 The skyes rang for schoutyng of the larkis, 
 
 The purpur hevyn our-scaiHt^ in silvir sloppis, 
 Our-gilt the treis, branchis, leivis and barkis. 
 
 3 brushwood. 
 
 4 pleasantly. 
 
 5 likened flames. 
 
 6 branches. 
 
 7 on high. 
 
 gravel. 
 
 Doun thrwch ryss^ ane ryuir ran wyth stremys, 
 So lustily" agayn thai lykand lemys^ 
 
 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 hichf, 
 The bank was grene, the bruke vas full of bremys, 
 
 The stanneris" clere as stern in frosty nycht. 
 
 The cristall air, the sapher firmament, 
 The ruby skyes of the orient, 
 
 Kest beriall hemes on emerant hewis grene; 
 9 garden. The rosy garth', depaynt and redolent 
 
 " ^ate"^^^' '^'''' ^^i^'^ purpur, azure, gold, and goulis gent'°, 
 Arayed was by dame Fflora the quene 
 So nobily that ioy was for to sene": 
 The roch''' agayn the rywir resplendent 
 13 shining. As low'^ cnlumynit all the leues schene'"*. 
 
 cate. 
 
 "to see. 
 12 rock. 
 
 Quhat throu the mery foulys armony. 
 
 And throu the ryueris sounn that ran me by, 
 
 On Fflorais mantill I slepit quhair I lay, 
 Quhare sone in-to my dremes fantasy 
 
THE GOLDYN TARGE. i6i 
 
 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 burd' vnto the blomyt medis, • ground. 
 
 Amangis the grene rispis^ and the redis, a coarse grasses. 
 
 Arrivit scho ; quhar-fro anone thare landis 
 Ane hundreth ladyes, lusty in-till wedis, 
 Als fresch as flouris that in the May vp spredis, 
 
 In kirtillis grene, withoutyn kell^ or bandis"*; 4 neckerchiefs 
 
 Thair brycht hairis hang gletering on the strandis 
 In tressis clere, wyppit^ wyth goldyn thredis, s 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 
 
 Depaynt war brycht, quhilk to the hevin did glete*?*-'?'^'"- 
 Noucht thou, Homer, als fair as thou cowth wryte, 
 For all thi ornate style so perfyte, 
 
 Nor yk thou, TuUius, quhois lippis suete 
 
 Off rethorike did in-to termis flete': 7 float. 
 
 Your aureate tongis both bene all to lyte' a too little. 
 
 For to compile that paradise complete. 
 
 Thare saw I Nature, and [dame] Venus quene. 
 
 The fresch Aurora, and lady Flora schenc', 9 bc.-iutirui. 
 
 luno, [Latona,] and Proscrpyna, 
 
 Dyanc, the goddesse chaste of woddis grene, 
 M n 
 
1 62 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 heipofpoetsis. My lady Cleo that help of makaris bene', 
 Thetes, Pallas, and prudent Minerua, 
 Fair feynit^ Fortune, and lemand^ Lucina 
 Thir mychti quenis in crounis mycht be sene, 
 Wyth bemys blith, bricht as Lucifera. 
 
 2 feigned. 
 
 3 shining. 
 
 4 rejoice sud- 
 denly. 
 
 There saw I May, of myrthfull monethis quene, 
 Betuix Aprile and June, her sisteris schene, 
 
 Within the gairdene walking vp and doun, 
 Quham of the foulis gladdith al bedene^; 
 Scho was full tender in-till hir yeris grene. 
 
 Thare saw I Nature present hir a goune 
 
 Rich 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. 
 
 7 Saluted. 
 
 Full lustily thir ladyes all in fere^ 
 Enterit within this park of most plesere, 
 
 Quhare that I lay helit wyth leuis ronk^; 
 The mery foulis, blisfullest of chere, 
 Salust^ 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. 
 
 8 Afterwards. 
 
 9 times. 
 
 Syne® to dame Flora on the samyn wyse 
 Thay saluse and thay thank a thousand syse^ 
 And to dame Wenus, lufis mychti quene, 
 10 guise, fashion, -pf^^y g^j^g ballattis in lufe, as was the gyse", 
 
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 splene*, i from the heart. 
 
 With warbilhs suete did perse the hevinly skyes, 
 
 Quhill loud resownyt the firmament serene. 
 
 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, 
 AufuU and sterne, strong and corpolent; 
 
 Thare saw I crabbit Saturn aid and haire^ 
 
 His luke was lyke for to perturb the aire; 
 Thare was Marcourius, wise and eloquent, 
 
 Of rhethorike that fand^ the flouris faire. 
 
 2 hoar. 
 
 3 found. 
 
 Thare was the god of gardynis, Priapus ; 
 Thare was the god of wildernes, Phanus ; 
 
 And lanus, god of entres-* dely table ; 
 Thare was the god of fludis, Neptunus ; 
 Thare was the god of windis, Eolus, 
 
 With variand luke, rycht lyke a lord vns'table; 
 
 Thare was Bachus, the gladder of the table ; 
 Thare was Pluto, the elrichs incubus, 
 
 In cloke of grene, his court usit no sable. 
 
 4 entries. 
 
 S uncanny, 
 elvish. 
 
 And ewiry one of thir*^, in grene arayit. 
 On harp or lute full merily thai playit. 
 
 And sang ballettis with michty notis clerc. 
 Ladyes to dance full sobirly assayit, 
 
 6 these. 
 
164 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 1 Along. Endlang' 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 
 
 2 bought. All throu a luke quhilk I haue coft^ full dere. 
 
 3 to see. 
 
 4 A wonderfully 
 
 pleasant strife. 
 
 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 sene^ 
 
 A wonder lusty bikar"* me assayit. 
 
 5 confound, 
 
 destroy. 
 
 6 company. 
 
 And first of all, with bow in hand ay bent, 
 
 Come dame Bewty rycht as scho wald me schent^; 
 
 Syne folowit all hir dammosaUis in feir^, 
 With mony diuerse aufuU 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 schamefull 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 Womanhede I saw cum in presence ; 
 Of artilye' a warld sche did in bring, • artillery. 
 
 Seruit wyth ladyes full of reuerence. 
 
 Scho led with hir Nurture and Lawlyness, 
 
 Continwance-, Pacience, Gude Fame, and Stedfastnes, = Continence. 
 
 Discretioun, Gentrise^, and Considerance, 3 Gentlehood. 
 
 LefulP Company and Honest Besynes 4 Lawful. 
 
 Benigne Luke, Mylde Chere, and Sobirnes. 
 
 All thir bure ganyeis^ to do me greuance, s darts. 
 
 But Resoun bure the Targe wyth sik^ Constance "^such. 
 Thair scharp assayes mycht do no dures 
 
 To me for all thair aufuU ordynance. 
 
 Wnto the pres persewit Hie Degre ; 
 Hir folowit ay Estate and Dignitee, 
 
 Comparisoun, Honour, and Noble Array, 
 Will, Wantonness, Renoun, and Libertee, 
 Richessc, Fredome, and eke Nobilitee. 
 
 Wit ye thay did thair baner hye display ; 
 
 A cloud of arowis as hayle-schour lousit thay 
 And schot, quhill' wastit was thair artilye. 
 
 7 till. 
 
 Syne went abak rebutit' of thair pray. * repulsed. 
 
 Quhen Venus had persauit this rebute, 
 Uissymilance scho bad go mak persutc. 
 
 At all powere to perse the Goldyn Targe; 
 And scho that was of doubilncs the rute 
 
i66 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 > means of 
 
 achievement. 
 
 2 choose. 
 
 3 pledge. 
 
 •4 an arrow. 
 
 Askit hir choise of archeris in refute'. 
 
 Wenus the best bad hir to wale" at large; 
 
 Scho tuke Presence plicht^ anker of the barge, 
 And Fair Callyng that vvele a flayn" coud schute, 
 
 And Cherising for to complete hir charge. 
 
 S skilful. 
 
 6 made assault. 
 
 7 syouris, 
 scions, shoots, 
 
 Dame Hamelynes scho tuke in company, 
 That hardy was, and hende^ in archery, 
 
 And brocht dame Bewty to the felde agayn.. 
 With all the choise of Venus cheualry 
 Thay come, and bikkerit^ vnabaisitly. 
 
 The schour of arowis rappit on as rayn; 
 
 Perrellus Presence, that mony syre^ has slayne, 
 
 s took place on The bataiU broucht on bordour*^ hard me by; 
 
 the beach. 
 
 9 sorer, truth to 
 say. 
 
 The salt was all the sarar, suth to sayn^ 
 
 10 In warlike 
 fashion. 
 
 " storm. 
 
 •a went astray. 
 
 Thik was the schote of grundyn dartis kene ; 
 Bot Resoun with the Scheld of Gold so schene 
 
 Weirly'° defendit, quho-so-ewir assayit. 
 The aufull stoure" he manly did sustene, 
 Quhill Presence kest a pulder in his ene. 
 
 And than as drunkyn man he all forvayit'^ 
 
 Quhen he was blynd the fule wyth hym thay playit, 
 And banyst hym amang the bewis grene. 
 
 That sair sicht me sudaynly affrayit. 
 
 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 tynt' his eyne clere ' 'o^'- 
 
 Than of before, and lufliare of face. 
 
 Quhy was thou blyndit, Resoun ? quhi, allace ! 
 And gert' ane hell my paradise appere, » caused. 
 
 And mercy seme, quhare that I fand no grace. 
 
 Dissymulance was besy me to sile^ 
 
 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 Uangere toward me repair; 
 I couth eschew hir presence be no wyle; 
 
 On syde scho lukit wyth ane fremyt fare*. 
 
 And at the last Departing cowth hir dressed 
 And me delyuerit vnto Hevynesse 
 
 For to remayne, and scho in cure^ me tuke. 
 Be this the Lord of Wyndis, wyth wodenes^ 
 God Eolus, his bugill blew I gesse, 
 
 That with the blast the leuis all to schuke, 
 
 And sudaynly, in the space of ane luke. 
 All was hyne^ went, thare was bot wildcrnes, 
 
 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 twynkling of ane e to schip thai went, 
 And swyth' vp saile vnto the top thai stent'". 
 
 9 swiftly. 
 
 10 stretched. 
 
 And with swift course atour" the flude thay frak'\;;o^- 
 
 Thay fyrit gunnis wyth polder violent, 
 
i68 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 I smoke. 
 - crash. 
 
 3 noise. 
 
 4 sprang. 
 
 5 cliffs, ravines. 
 
 Till that the reke' raise to the firmament; 
 
 The rockes all resoundit wyth the rak"; 
 
 For reird^' it sem)'t that the raynbow brak. 
 Wyth spreit affrayit apon my fete I sprent", 
 
 Amang the clewis^ so carefuU was the crak. 
 
 6 awake from my And as I did awalk of my sueving^ 
 
 dreaming 
 
 7 morning. 
 
 8 furnished 
 forth. 
 
 The ioyfuU birdis merily did syng 
 
 For myrth of Phebus tendir bemes schene; 
 Suete war the vapouris, soft the morowing', 
 Halesum the vale, depaynt wyth flouris ying; 
 
 The air attemperit, sobir, and amene; 
 
 In quhite and rede was all the felde besene*^, 
 Throu Naturis nobil fresche anamalyng, 
 
 In mirthful! May of ewiry moneth quene. 
 
 9 celestial. 
 
 O reuerend Chaucere, rose of rhethoris all, 
 As in our tong ane flour imperiall, 
 
 That raise in Britane ewir, quho redis rycht. 
 Thou beris of makaris the tryumph riall ; 
 Thy fresch anamalit termes celicall^ 
 
 This mater coud illumynit haue full brycht. 
 
 Was thou noucht of oure Inglis all the lycht, 
 Surmounting ewiry tong terrestrial!, 
 
 Alls fer as Mayes morow dois mydnycht ? 
 
 O 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 or' your goldyn pennis schupe" to wryte. 'prepared. 
 
 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 connyng^ wicht, 
 I knaw quhat thou of rethorike hes spent. 
 Off all hir lusty rosis redolent 
 
 Is none in-to thy gerland sett on hicht", 
 
 Eschame thairfoir, and draw the out of sicht, 
 Rude is thy wede, destitute, bare, and rent, 
 
 Wele aucht thou be affeirit^ of the licht. 
 
 3 skiirul. 
 
 4 on high. 
 
 S afraid. 
 
THE THRISSIL AND THE ROIS. 
 
 QuHEN Merche wes with variand windis past, 
 
 And Appryll had, with hir siluer schouris, 
 Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast, 
 
 1 pleasant. And lusty ' May, that mvddir is of flouris, 
 
 2 morning Had Hiaid the birdis to bearyn thair houris'' 
 
 prayers. '-'■' 
 
 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 halsit^ me, with visage paill and grene; 
 
 4 from the heart. On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene*, 
 
 " 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, 
 
 5 meekness. Sobir, beuyng, and full of mansuetude^, 
 
 In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new, 
 Hevinly of color, quhyt, reid, broun, and blew, 
 Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys, 
 
 6 glowing. Quhill all the house illumynit of hir lemys*. 
 
THE THRISSIL AND THE ROIS. 
 
 171 
 
 "Slugird," scho said, "awalk' annone for schame, 'awake. 
 
 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 bhsfuU 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 ring=; 
 So busteous^ ar the blastis of his home, 3 rude, powerful. 
 
 Amang thy bewis^ to walk I haif forborne." >■ boughs. 
 
 : reigns in thy 
 season. 
 
 With that this lady sobirly did smyle, 
 
 And said, "Vpryse, and do thy observance; 
 
 Thow did promyt, in Mayis lusty quhyle, 
 For to discryve^ the Rois of most plesance. 
 Go se the birdis how thay sing and dance, 
 
 Illumynit our^ with orient skyis brycht, 
 
 Annamyllit richely with new asur lycht." 
 
 Quhen this wes said, depairtit scho, this quene, 
 And enterit in a lusty gairding gent^; 
 
 And than, me-thocht, full hestely besene', 
 In serk and mantill [eftir hir] I went 
 In-to this garth^ most dulce and redolent 
 
 Off herb and flour and tendir plantis sucit. 
 
 And grene levis doing of dew doun fleif". 
 
 S describe. 
 
 6 over. 
 
 7 neat (genteel). 
 
 8 fitted out. 
 
 9 inclosure. 
 
 10 causing dew to 
 float down. 
 
172 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 I The purple sun. The purpour sone', with tendir bemys reid, 
 In orient bricht as angell did appeir. 
 Throw goldin skyis putting vp his heid, 
 Quhois gilt tressis schone so wondir cleir, 
 That all the world tuke confort, fer and neir, 
 To luke vpone his fresche and blisfuU face, 
 Doing all sable fro the hevynnis chace. 
 
 ' ' sounTof the ^nd as the blisfull sonne of cherarchy^ 
 
 ange c oir. ,pj^^ fowlis song throw confort of the licht ; 
 The birdis did with oppin vocis cry, 
 " O, luvaris fo, away thou dully Nycht ! 
 And welcum, Day, that confortis every wicht ! 
 ''Sufifui. Haill May, haill Flora, haill Aurora schene^, 
 
 Haill princes Natur, haill Venus, luvis quene ! " 
 
 4 earth. 
 
 5 also. 
 
 Dame Nature gaif ane inhibitioun thair 
 To ferss Neptunus and Eolus the bawld, 
 
 Nocht to perturb the wattir nor the air, 
 
 And that no schouris [snell] nor blastis cawld 
 Effray suld flouris nor fowlis on the fold*. 
 
 Scho bad eik^ Juno, goddis of the sky, 
 
 That scho the hevin suld keip amene and dry. 
 
 Scho ordand eik that every bird and beist 
 Befoir hir hienes suld annone compeir. 
 
 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 makar to mak obediens. 
 
 Full law inclynnand with all dew reuerens. 
 
THE THRISSIL AND THE ROIS. 
 
 '/J 
 
 With that annone scho send the swyft Ro 
 To bring in beistis of all conditioun ; 
 
 The restles Suallow Gotnmandit scho also 
 
 To feche all fowll of small and greit renown; 
 And to gar' flouris compeir of all fassoun 
 
 Full craftely conjurit scho the Yarrow, 
 
 Quhilk did furth swirk^ als swift as ony arrow. 
 
 All present wer in twynkling of ane e, 
 
 Baith beist and bird and flour, befoir the quene. 
 
 And first the Lyone, gretast of degre, 
 
 Was caUit thair; and he, most fair to sene^ 
 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 feir\ 
 Lusty of schaip, lycht of deliuerance^; 
 Reid of his cuUour, as is the ruby glance, 
 
 On feild of gold he stude full mychtely, 
 
 With flour-de-lycis sirculit lustely.* 
 
 This Lady liftit vp his cluvis* cleir, 
 
 And leit him listly^ lene vpone hir kne, 
 
 And crownit him with dyademe full deir, 
 Off radyous stonis, most ryall for to sc. 
 Saying, " The King of Beistis mak I th6, 
 
 And the cheif protector in woddis and schawis"; 
 
 Onto thi leigis go furth and kelp the lawis. 
 * A description of the royal arms of Scotland. 
 
 • cause. 
 
 2 dart. 
 
 3 to see. 
 
 4 without com- 
 
 panion. 
 
 5 movement. 
 
 6 claws. 
 
 7 willingly. 
 
 8 coverts. 
 
174 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 I hurt nor con- 
 tumely. 
 
 2 Make law alike. 
 
 "Exerce justice with mercy and conscience, 
 And lat no small beist suffir skaith na skornis' 
 
 Of greit beistis that bene of moir piscence; 
 Do law elyk- to aipis and vnicornis, 
 And lat no bowgie with his busteous hornis 
 
 The meik pluch-ox oppress, for all his pryd, 
 
 Bot in the yok go peciable him besyd." 
 
 3 fealty. 
 
 4 gestures. 
 
 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 fewte^; 
 
 And he did thame ressaif with princely laitis", 
 
 ^ ''sparrth'e^°*^ Quhois noblc yrc is proceir prostratis^ 
 
 prostrate." 
 
 Syne crownit scho the Egle King of Fowlis, 
 And as steill dertis scherpit scho his pennis'^. 
 
 And bawd him be als just to awppis and owlis, 
 As vnto pacokkis, papingais', or crennis, 
 And mak a law for wycht" fowlis and for wrennis ; 
 9 do affrighting. And lat no fowU of ravyne do efferay', 
 
 Nor devoir birdis bot his awin pray. 
 
 6 quills. 
 
 7 parrots. 
 
 8 mighty. 
 
 10 qualities. 
 
 " protect the 
 
 rest. 
 
 Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild, 
 Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris'". 
 
 Vpone the awfuU 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, 
 
 And said, "In feild go furth, and fend the laif"; 
 
THE THRISSIL AND THE ROIS. 
 
 175 
 
 I since. 
 
 3 fellow herself. 
 
 "And, sen' thow art a king, thou be discreit ; 
 
 Herb without vertew thou hald nocht of sic= pryce=^such, 
 As herb of vertew and of odor sueit ; 
 
 And lat no nettill vyle and full of vyce, 
 
 Hir fallow^ to the gudly flour-de-lyce ; 
 Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness, 
 Compair hir till the lilleis nobilness. 
 
 "Nor hald non vdir flour in sic denty* 4 in such regard. 
 
 As the fresche Rois, of cuUour 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 blisfuU angeilik bewty, 
 Imperiall birth, honour, and dignite." 
 
 Than to the Rois scho turnyt hir visage, 
 
 And said, "O lusty dochtir most benyng, 
 Aboif the lilly illustare of lynnage,t 
 
 Fro the stok r>'ell rysing fresche and ying. 
 
 But ony spot or macull doing spring"^; 
 Cum, blowme of joy, with jemis to be cround. 
 For our the laif^ thy bewty is renowned." 
 
 5 Springing with- 
 out spot or stain. 
 
 over the rest. 
 
 A coistly croun, with clarefeid stonis brycht. 
 This cumly queue did on hir heid inclois, 
 
 Quhill all the land illumynit of the licht ; 
 Quhairfoir me-thocht all flouris did reiois, 
 Crying attonis^ " Haill be thou, richest Rois! 7 at once. 
 
 Haill, hairbis emprycc! haill freschcst qucnc of flouris! 
 
 To the be glory and honour at all houris !" 
 
 * An allusion, as Lainf; 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. 
 
176 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 » thrush. 
 
 ' peace. 
 
 3 cry. 
 
 4 partly in 
 
 affright. 
 
 5 before. 
 
 Thane all the birdis song with voce on hicht, 
 Quhois mirthfull soun was mervelus to heir. 
 
 The mavyis' song, "Haill, Rois 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, Rois 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 cuUouris 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, " O 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 peax^, 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 braid ^ I turnyt me about 
 
 To se this court; bot all were went away. 
 Than vp I lenyt, halflingis in affrey", 
 
 And thus I wret, as ye haiff hard to-forrow^. 
 
 Off lusty May vpone 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 bandoun' for to rest. 
 
 I govit^ on that gudliest. 
 So lang to luk I tuk laseir, 
 
 Quhill I wes tane withouttin test 3, 
 And led furth as a presoneir. 
 
 1 service. 
 
 2 gazed eagerly. 
 
 3 contest. 
 
 Hir sweit having and fresche bewtie 
 
 Hes wondit me but" swerd or lance, 
 With hir to go commandit me 
 
 Ontill the castell of Pennance. 
 
 I said "Is this your gouirnance. 
 To tak men for thair luking heir?" 
 
 Fresche Bewty said "Ya, schir, perchance, 
 Ye be my ladeis presoneir." 
 
 4 without. 
 
 Thai had me hundin to the yet^ 
 
 Quhair Strangenes had bene portar ay, 
 
 And in deliuerit me thairat. 
 
 And in thir^ termis can thai say, 
 
 * Laing suggests that in this jOTcm Dimliar may have done 
 little more than delineate one of the pageants or masques of the 
 period which he had witnessed while in England. 
 
 S They conveyed 
 mu lu llic Kate. 
 
 6 these. 
 
 N 
 
 II 
 
178 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 I Give attention. " Do wait", and lat him nocht away." 
 
 Quo Strangnes vnto the porteir 
 
 "Ontill my lady, I dar lay, 
 Ye be to pure a presoneir." 
 
 2 named. 
 
 3 disdain. 
 
 4 Though I was 
 
 vvoful I dared 
 not complain. 
 
 5 qualities 
 
 (senses). 
 
 6 did I say. 
 
 Thai kest me in a deip dungeoun, 
 And fetterit me but lok or cheyne. 
 
 The capitane hecht- Comparesone, 
 
 To luke on me he thocht greit deyne^ 
 Thocht I wes wo I durst nocht pleyne". 
 
 For he had fetterit mony affeir^; 
 
 With petouss voce thus cuth I sene^ 
 
 "Wo is a wofull presoneir!" 
 
 7 watch. 
 
 8 jester. 
 
 9 bauble. 
 
 10 comes within 
 
 bounds. 
 
 11 clownish (?) 
 
 Langour wes weche^ vpoun the wall, 
 That nevir sleipit, bot evir wouke ; 
 
 Scorne wes bourdour^ in the hall ; 
 And oft on me his babilP schuke, 
 Lukand with mony a dengerous luke; 
 
 "Quhat is he yone, that methis'° ws neir? 
 Ye be to townage", be this buke, 
 
 To be my ladeis presoneir." 
 
 12 whispered. 
 
 13 write. 
 
 14 sped without 
 
 companion. 
 
 15 secret words. 
 
 Gud Houp rownit'- in my eir, 
 
 And bad me baldlie breve '^ a bill; 
 With Lawlines he suld it beir, 
 
 With Fair Scherwice send it hir till. 
 
 I wouk and wret hir all my will ; 
 Fair Scherwice fur withouttin feir'", 
 
 Sayand till hir with wirdis stilP=, 
 "Haif pety of your presoneir!" 
 
BEWTY AND THE PKESONEIR. 
 
 179 
 
 Than Lawlines to Petie went, 
 
 And said till hir in termis schort, 
 " Lat we yone presoneir be schent', 
 
 Will no man do to ws support ; 
 
 Gar'' lay ane sege vnto yone fort." 
 Than Petie said, "I sail appeir;" 
 
 Thocht sayis, " I hecht, com I ourthorf, 
 I houp to lowss the presoneir." 
 
 • undone. 
 
 2 Cause. 
 
 3 I promise, if 1 
 come over. 
 
 Than to battell thai war arreyit all, 
 
 And ay the wawarf kepit Thocht; 
 Lust bur the benner to the wall. 
 
 And Bissines the grit gyn brocht^. 
 
 Skorne cryis out, sayis, "Wald ye ocht?" 
 Lust sayis, "We wald half entre heir;" 
 
 Comparisone sayis, "That is for nocht; 
 Ye will nocht wyn the presoneir." 
 
 4 vanguard. 
 
 5 brought the 
 srrpat engine 
 of war. 
 
 Thai thairin schup^ for to defend, 
 
 And thai thairfurth sailyeit' ane hour; 
 Than Bissiness the grit gyn bend, 
 
 Straik doun the top of the foir tour. 
 
 Comparisone began to lour^ 
 And cryit furth, "I yow rcqueir. 
 
 Soft and fair and do fawour, 
 And tak to yow the presoneir." 
 
 Thai fyrit the yettis deliuerly' 
 
 With faggottis wer grit and huge; 
 
 And Strangenes, quhair that he did ly 
 Wes brint in-to the porter luge. 
 
 6 prepared. 
 
 7 assailed. 
 
 8 look gloomy. 
 
 9 gates speedily. 
 
i8o 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 I Such strokes 
 and rustling 
 were astir. 
 
 Lustely thay lakit bot a juge, 
 Sic straikis and stychling wes on steir', 
 
 The semeliest wes maid assege 
 To quhome that he wes presoneir. 
 
 2 Through 
 
 Scorn's nose. 
 
 3 blacking. 
 
 4 buried alive. 
 
 5 host, lit. large 
 
 number. 
 
 6 chamberlain. 
 
 Thrucht Skornes noss^ thai put a prik, 
 
 This he wes banist and gat a blek^; 
 Comparisone wes erdit quik'', 
 
 And Langour lap and brak his nek. 
 
 Thai sailyeit fast, all the fek^; 
 Lust chasit my ladeis chalmirleir^; 
 
 Gud Fame wes drownit in a sek. 
 Thus ransonit thai the presoneir. 
 
 7 From the time 
 
 when Slander 
 heard. 
 
 8 Gathered to 
 
 battle. 
 
 9 cousin. 
 
 •o gossip- 
 mongers. 
 
 " conceals. 
 
 Fra Sklandir hard' Lust had vndone 
 
 His enemeis, him aganis 
 Assemblit^ ane semely sort full sone, 
 
 And raiss and rowttit all the planis. 
 
 His cusing' in the court remanis, 
 Bot jalouss folkis and geangleiris'° 
 
 And fals Invy that no-thing lanis" 
 Blew out on Luvis presoneir. 
 
 12 armed, without 
 lying, i.e. in 
 fact. 
 
 '3 doubt, uncer- 
 tainty. 
 
 Syne Matremony, that nobill king, 
 
 Was grevit, and gadderit ane grit ost. 
 And all enermit, without lesing'^. 
 
 Chest Sklander to the west se cost. 
 
 Than wes he and his linege lost, 
 And Matremony, withouttin weir '3, 
 
 The band of freindschip hes indost 
 Betuix Bewty and the presoneir. 
 
BEWTY AND THE PRESONEIR. 
 
 i8i 
 
 Be that of eild' wes Gud Famiss air, 
 
 And cumyne to continwatioun, 
 And to the court maid his repair, 
 
 Quhair Matremony than woir the crowne. 
 
 He gat ane confirmatioun 
 All that his modir aucht but weir^, 
 
 And baid^ still, as it wes resone, 
 With Bewty and the presoneir. 
 
 I By that time 
 Good Fame's 
 heir was of age. 
 
 2 owned assur- 
 
 edly. 
 
 3 abode. 
 
LONDON.* 
 
 London, thou art of townes A per se ! 
 
 Soveraign 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 Be glad. 
 
 2 pleasant. 
 
 3 named. 
 
 4 Is formed. 
 
 5 since. 
 
 Gladdith' anon thou lusty- Troynovaunt, 
 
 City that some-tyme cleped' was New Troy; 
 
 In all the erth, imperiall as thou stant, 
 
 Pryncesse of townes, of pleasure, and of joy, 
 A richer restith under no Christen roy ; 
 
 For manly power, with craftis naturall, 
 
 Fourmeth" none fairer sith^ the flode of Noy. 
 
 London, thou art the flour of cities all ! 
 
 * The spelling of this poem, it will be noticed, follows the 
 English model of the time in several respects, a fact owed 
 perhaps to the courtesy of the poet, perhaps to the habit of the 
 transcriber in the Cotton MS. 
 
LONDON. I S3 
 
 Gemme of all joy, jasper of jocunditie, 
 
 Most myghty carbuncle of vertue and valour, 
 Strong Troy in vigour and in strenuytie', • fortitude. 
 
 Of royall cities rose and geraflour% :> 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 Ryuer hath renowne, 
 
 Whose beryalP stremys, pleasaunt and preclare^ 4mobtfamoub 
 Under the lusty wallis renneth down, 
 
 Where many a swanne doth swymme with wyngis 
 
 fare, 
 
 Where many a barge doth saile and row with are^, s 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 Brigge^ of pylers white 6 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 longe may not be told. 
 London, thou art the flour of cities all ! 
 
 Strong be thy wallis that about thcc standis ; 
 
 Wise be the people that within thee dwellis ; 
 Fresh is thy ryver with his lusty strandis ; 
 
1 84 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 Blith be thy churches, wele sownyng be thy beUis \ 
 Riche be thy merchauntis in substaunce that 
 excelHs; 
 Fair be their wives, right lovesom, white, and small; 
 
 2 cT'ufs^aps. Clere' be thy virgyns, lusty under kellis^ 
 
 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. 
 
 3 guide. He is examplar, loode-ster, and guye^, 
 
 4 commendation. Principall patronc and roose"* orygynalle. 
 
 Above all maires as maister moost worthy; 
 London, thou art the flour of cities all ! 
 
 * " Sir John Shaw, who was knighted on the field by Henry 
 VII." — Gregory Smith. 
 
BE YE ANE LUVAR. 
 
 Be ye ane luvar, think ye nocht ye sulci 
 
 Be Weill ad\\7sit in your gouerning? 
 Be ye nocht sa it will on yow be tauld ; 
 
 Bewar thairwith for dreid of misdemyng'. -evil report. 
 
 , 1 „ • J • - a niggard, or 
 
 Be nocht a wreche, nor skerche- in your spending, ^pa^ng. 
 Be layth^ alway to do amiss or schame, 3'°^'*'- 
 
 Be rewlit rycht and keip this doctring, 
 Be secreit, trew, incressing of your name. 
 
 Be ye ane Iear^ that is werst of all ; 
 
 Be ye ane tratlar^, that I hald als ewill ; 
 Be ye ane janglar* 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. 
 
 * liar. 
 
 5 tattler. 
 
 6 wrangler. 
 
 7 falsehood. 
 
 Be nocht abasit for no wicket tung, 
 
 Be nocht sa set as I haif said yow heir : 
 Be nocht sa lerge vnto thir sawis sung^ 
 
 Be nocht our' prowd, thinkand ye haif no peir. 
 
 Be ye so wyiss that vderis at yow leir'°, 
 Be nevir he to sklandcr nor defame; 
 
 Be of your lufe no prechour as a freir ; 
 Be secreit, trew, incressing of your name. 
 
 8 Be not so heed- 
 less to these 
 sayings sung. 
 
 be not over. 
 
 10 learn. 
 
TO A LADYE. 
 
 SwEiT roiss of vertew and of gentilnes, 
 I beauty. Dclytsum lylHc of everie lustynes ', 
 
 Richest in bontie, and in bewtie cleir, 
 And everie vertew that is [held most] deir, 
 Except onhe that ye ar mercyles. 
 
 2 garden. 
 
 3 attend. 
 
 4 see. 
 
 5 wholesome. 
 
 In-to your garthe'' this day I did persew^, 
 Thair saw I flowris that fresche wer of hew; 
 
 Baith quhyte and reid moist lusty war to seyne*, 
 And halsum^ herbis vpone stalkis grene; 
 Yit leif nor flour fynd could I nane of rew. 
 
 <* such pain. 
 
 I dout that Merche with his cauld blastis keyne 
 Hes slane this gentill herbe that I of niene ; 
 
 Quhois petewous deithe dois to my hart sic pane* 
 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 heilP wes and glaidnes 
 Am trublit now. with gret seiknes 
 And feblit with infimiitie ; 
 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me.* 
 
 I health. 
 
 Our plesance heir is all vane glory, 
 This fals warld is bot transitory, 
 The flesche is brukle-, the Feynd is sle^; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 = brittle, frail. 
 3 sly. 
 
 The stait of man dois change and vary. 
 Now sound, now seik, now blyth, now sary*. 
 Now dansand mirry, now like to dee ; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 4 sorry. 
 
 No stait in erd^ heir standis sickir*; 
 As with the wynd wavis the wickir' 
 So wavis this warldis vanite ; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 * The burden of this poem, "The fear of death troubles mc," 
 Laing points out, is borrowed from a poem by Lyd^-atc, which 
 begins " So as I lay the other night." 
 
 5 earth. 
 
 6 secure. 
 
 7 osier twig. 
 
I death. 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 Onto the ded' 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, 
 =* armed. Anamiit" vnder helme and scheild ; 
 
 3 in all contest. Wictour he is at all melle^; 
 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 4 sucking. 
 
 That Strang vnmercifuU tyrand 
 
 Takis on the moderis breist sowkand" 
 
 The bab full of Denignite; 
 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 5 the champion 
 in the storm 
 (dust) of battle. 
 
 He takis the campion in the stour^, 
 The capitane closit in the tour, 
 The lady in bour full of bewte; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 6 power. 
 
 He spairis no lord for his piscence*, 
 Na clerk for his intelligence; 
 His awfull strak may no man fie; 
 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, 
 
 ,--Ti , It * succour, 
 
 Thame-self fra ded may not supple ; defend. 
 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 I see that makaris^ amang the laif^ \ ^^^ 
 
 Playis heir ther padyanis\ syne gois to graiP; \^^^^^- 
 Sparit is nocht ther faculte''; 6 their guild. 
 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 He hes done petuously devour 
 The noble Chaucer, of makaris flouir, 
 The monk of Bery" and Gower all thre ; 7 r.^. Lydg.-itc. 
 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 The gude Syr Hew of Eglintoun, 
 Ettrik, Hcryot, et Wyntoun 
 He hes tane out of this cuntre ; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 That scorpioun fell hes done infek^ 
 Maister lohne Clerk and James Afflek 
 Fra balat making and trigide; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 Holland and Barbour he has berevit; 
 Allacc, that he nought with ws Icwit 
 Schir Mungo Lokert of the Le ! 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 8 has inhibited (?) 
 
X jWtfTW ^ y i^[^)Hfy^^ 
 
 igo 
 
 WILUAM DLNBAR. 
 
 Clerk of Tranent eik he has tane. 
 That maid the anteris^ of Gawane; 
 Schir Gflbert Hay endit has he; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 3 *l»-iajiMlf«- 
 
 He has Blind Haiy et Sandy ^ Traill 
 Slaine with his schot of mortall haiU, 
 Qnhilk Patrik Johnistoiin myght nought fle; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 =: ^'■-'- 
 
 He hes reft Merseir his endite^, 
 That did in luf so lifly* write. 
 So schort, so quyk, of sentence hie- 
 Timor IMortis conturbat me. 
 
 He hes tane Roull of Aberdene, 
 And gentill Roull of Corstorphin ; 
 Two bettir fallowis did no ma n se: 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 6 "viospcied. 
 
 1 SEigacec. 
 
 In Dmifermelyne he has done ro\-ne' 
 
 With gud Maister Robert Henrisoun ; 
 
 Schir lohne the Ros enbrast' hes he: 
 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 8 alL 
 
 And he has now tane, last of aw^ 
 Gvid gentill Stobo and Quintyne Schaw, 
 Of quham all wichtis hes pete: 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me 
 
LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS. 191 
 
 Gud Maister Walter Kenned}- 
 In poynt of de<ie lyis veraly ; 
 Gret readi it wer diat so suld be; 
 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 Soi he has all my bre:ier lane 
 He will nanght lai me lif alme : 
 Ob forse I man^ his nyxt pray be: 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
 Sai for the deid" remeid is non, 
 Best is that we foe deid dispone', 
 Eftir our deid that lif may we; 
 Timor Mortis conturbat me.* 
 
 It has faeoi noted as cmaoos tltat Dmihar in 
 
 T .-— .. 
 
 makes no n»esjtioD of saidi wdl-iaiown poets as Gavm Dree 
 TaiBes I., ami Tbomas the Rhymer, imless indeed the fas 
 be recognised onder tbe oognomen of " Etnik.^ 
 
 -^ 
 
THE DANCE OF THE SEVIN 
 DEIDLY SYNNIS. 
 
 1 Mahomet (the 
 
 Devil). 
 
 2 accursed 
 
 persons. 
 
 3 confessed. 
 
 4 the eve of Lent. 
 
 5 gallants pre- 
 pare a play. 
 
 6 gambols (from 
 J^r. jambe). 
 
 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 
 
 Mahoun' gart cry ane dance 
 Off schrewis^ that wer nevir schrevin^, 
 Aganis the feist of Fasternis evin"* 
 
 To mak thair observance. 
 He bad gallandis ga graith a gyiss^ 
 And kast vp gamountis^ in the skyiss, 
 
 As varlotis does in France. 
 
 7 Proud. 
 
 8 haughty. 
 
 9 laughed. 
 
 10 Till. 
 
 11 gestures of 
 
 derision. 
 
 Heilie' harlottis on hawtane^ wyiss 
 Come in with mony sindrie gyiss, 
 
 Bot yit luche^ nevir Mahoun; 
 Quhill" preistis come in with bair schevin nekkis, 
 Than all the feyndis lewche and maid gekkis", 
 
 Blak-Belly and Bawsy-Brown.* 
 
 * " Popular names of certain spirits. Bazasy-Bro'cvn seems to 
 be the English Robin Goodfellow, known in Scotland by the 
 name of Brownie." — Hailes. 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, "Now quha begynnis?" 
 With that the fowl! Sevin Deidly Synnis 
 
 Begowth to leip at anis'. 
 And first of all in dance wes Pryd, 
 With hair wyld bale and bonet on syd, 
 
 Lyk to mak vaistie wanis''; 
 And round abowt him, as a quheill. 
 Hang all in rumpillis^ to the heill 
 
 His kethat-' for the nanis^. 
 Mony prowd trumpour^ with him trippit. 
 Throw skaldand fyre ay as thay skippit 
 
 Thay gyrnd'' with hiddouss granis. 
 
 Than Yre come in with sturt^ and str>'fe; 
 His hand wes ay vpoun his knyfe, 
 
 He brandeist lyk a beir : 
 Bostaris, braggaris, and barganeris' 
 Eftir him passit, in-to pairis, 
 
 All bodin in feir of weir'°, 
 In iakkis" and stryppis and bonettis of steill, 
 Thair leggis wer chenyeit'- to the heill, 
 
 Ffrawart wes thair affeir'^: 
 Sum vpoun vdir with brandis beft", 
 Sum jaggit'5 vthiris to the heft 
 
 With knyvis that scherp cowd schcir. 
 
 Nixt in the dance followit Invy, 
 Fild full of feid and fellony'". 
 
 Hid malyce and dispyte: 
 Ffor pryvie hatrent that tratour trymlit. 
 Him followit mony freik'' dissymlit, 
 With fenyeit wirdis" quhyte ; 
 
 o " 
 
 > at once. 
 
 2 empty 
 dwelling. 
 
 3 disordered 
 
 folds. 
 
 4 cassock. 
 
 5 nonce. 
 
 6 deceiver. 
 
 7 grinned. 
 
 8 disturbance. 
 
 9 quarrellers. 
 
 «o arrayed in 
 feature of war. 
 
 n jackets of mail. 
 
 13 covered with 
 
 chain-m.iil. 
 
 >3 Rude was their 
 bcxriiiR. 
 
 14 buffeted. 
 
 IS pricked. 
 
 16 ftfud and fierce- 
 ness. 
 
 «7 petulant folk. 
 iS fcitncd word*. 
 
194 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 « He. 
 
 2 whisperers of 
 false lies. 
 
 3 usurers. 
 
 4 Misers, 
 
 hoarders, and 
 gatherers. 
 
 5 wizard. 
 
 6 great quantity 
 (properly 1281b. 
 weight). 
 
 7 wildfire. 
 
 8 emptied. 
 
 9 all kinds of 
 coinage. 
 
 'o grunting 
 mouth. 
 
 " Many lazy 
 tun-bellied 
 gluttons. 
 
 "2 slothful idler. 
 «3 drab. 
 
 14 solicitude. 
 
 15 loins. 
 
 16 apprehension. 
 
 And flattereris in-to menis facis, 
 And bakbyttaris in secreit placis 
 
 To ley' that had delyte; 
 And rownaris of fals lesingis-: 
 AUace, 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 okkeraris^, 
 Hud-pykis, hurdaris, and gadderaris'' 
 
 All with that warlo^ went. 
 Out of thair throttis thay schot on vdder 
 Hett moltin gold, me-thocht, a fudder^, 
 
 As fyreflawcht^ maist fervent : 
 Ay as thay tomit® thame of schot 
 Ffeyndis fild thame new vp to the thrott 
 
 With gold of allkin prent'. 
 
 Syne Sweirnes, at the secound bidding, 
 Come lyk a sow out of a midding. 
 
 Full slepy wes his grunyie'°. 
 Mony sweir bumbard-belly huddroun", 
 Mony slute daw'^ and slepy duddroun'^, 
 
 Him serwit ay with sounyie"*. 
 He drew thame furth in-till a chenyie, 
 And Belliall with a brydill renyie 
 
 Evir lascht thame on the lunyie'^. 
 In dance thay war so slaw of feit 
 Thay gaif thame in the fyre a heit 
 
 And maid thame quicker of counyie'*. 
 
THE SEVTN DEIDLY SYNNIS. 
 
 195 
 
 Than Lichery, that lathly corss, 
 Come berand' lyk ane bagit'' horss 
 
 And Ydilness did him leid. 
 Thair wes with him ane vgly sort, 
 Full mony stynkand fowll tramort^ 
 
 That had in syn bene deid. 
 Quhen they wer entrit in the dance 
 Thay wer full strenge of countenance 
 
 Lyk turkass"* birnand raid. 
 All led thay vthir by the tersis, 
 Suppoiss thay fyleit^ with thair ersis, 
 
 It mycht be na remeid. 
 
 Than the fowll monstir Glutteny 
 Off wame^ vnsasiable and gredy 
 
 To dance he did him dress^. 
 Him followit mony fowll drunckart 
 With can and collep^, cop and quart, 
 
 In surffett and excess. 
 Full mony a waistless wallydrag', 
 With wamiss vnweildable, did furth wag 
 
 In creische" that did incress. 
 "Drynk!" ay thay cryit, with mony a gaip ; 
 The feyndis gaif thame hait leid to laip ; 
 
 Thair leweray" wes na less. 
 
 Na menstrallis playit to thame but dowt'^ 
 Ffor gle-men"" 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. 
 
 < snorting. 
 » baguettt. 
 
 3 dead bodies. 
 
 4 torture-pmcers. 
 
 S Althoueh they 
 defiled. 
 
 6 belly. 
 
 7 address. 
 
 8 a drinking 
 vessel. 
 
 9 ///. tlie wc.ikest 
 bird ill .1 nest. 
 
 • grease. 
 
 11 desire, reward. 
 
 >a without doubt. 
 >3 musicians. 
 
196 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 pageant. 
 
 2 By the time 
 that he had 
 cried the dirge. 
 
 3 heathenish 
 
 crew ; a play 
 here on the 
 word Ptar- 
 migan. 
 
 4 croak like raven 
 
 and rook. 
 
 5 deafened. 
 
 6 smothered. 
 
 Than cryd Mahoun for a Heleand padyane'; 
 Syne ran a feynd to feche Makfadyane 
 
 Ffar northwart in a nuke. 
 Be he the correnoch had done schout' 
 Erschemen so gadderit him abowt 
 
 In Hell grit rowme thay tuke. 
 Thae tarmegantis^ with tag and tatter 
 FfuU lowde in Ersche begowth to clatter, 
 
 And rowp lyk revin and ruke". 
 The Devill sa devit^ wes with thair yell 
 That in the depest pot of Hell 
 
 He smorit^ 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 appears to have been mutual. 
 
AMENDIS TO THE TELYOURIS 
 AND SOWTARIS. 
 
 Betuix twell houris and ellevin 
 I dremed ane angell came fra Hevin, 
 With plesand stevin' sayand on hie 
 "Telyouris and Sowtaris=, 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 nocht vnkend^ 
 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 flyrok" 
 That hes vpoun his feit a wyrokS 
 Knowll tais, nor mowlis in no dcgric', 
 Bot ye can hyd thame : blist l)c ye! 
 
 J sound, voice. 
 
 2 Tailors and 
 shoemakers. 
 
 3 unknown. 
 
 4 deformed 
 
 person. 
 
 5 a corn or Ijony 
 
 cxcrc!>ccni.c. 
 
 6 Toc^ swollen at 
 
 llic ioinl>, or 
 iliillilains to 
 any extent. 
 
198 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 I clothes. 
 
 "And ye tailyouris with weil-maid dais' 
 Can mend the werst-maid man that gais, 
 And mak him semely for to se : 
 Telyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye! 
 
 2 misfashioned. 
 
 3 than threesuch. 
 
 " Thocht God mak ane misfassonit^ man, 
 Ye can him all schaip new agane 
 And fassoun him bettir be sic thre^: 
 Telyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye! 
 
 4 what matter. 
 
 5 cunning. 
 
 6 crookedness 
 
 and lameness. 
 
 7 help. 
 
 " Thocht a man half a brokin bak 
 Haif he a gude crafty tailyour, quhatt rak^? 
 That can it cuver with craftis slie^: 
 Telyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye ! 
 
 " Off God grit kyndness may ye clame, 
 That helpis his peple fra cruke and lame^ 
 Supportand faltis with your supple^: 
 Tailyouris and Sowtaris, blist be ye! 
 
 8 In earth ye 
 show such. 
 
 9 Though. 
 
 " In erd ye kyth sic® mirakillis heir, 
 In Hevin ye sal be Sanctis full cleir, 
 Thocht' 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 
 A sweuyng swyth did me assaile' 
 
 Off sonis of Sathanis seid ; 
 Me-thocht a Turk of Tartary 
 Come throw the boundis of Barbary 
 And lay forloppin= in Lumbardy 
 
 Ffull lang in waithman weid^. 
 
 Ffra baptasing for to eschew" 
 Thair a rehgious man he slew, 
 And cled him in his habit new; 
 
 Ffor he cowth wryte and reid. 
 Quhen kend^ was his dissimvlance 
 And all his cursit govirnance* 
 Ffor feir he fled and come in France, 
 
 With littill of Lumbard laid'. 
 
 To be a leiche he fenyt' him thair, 
 Quhilk mony a man micht rew cvir-mair. 
 For he left nowthir seik nor sair 
 Vnslane or he hync ycid'. 
 
 I A vision sud- 
 denly canic 
 upon me. 
 
 a fugitive. 
 
 3 in wanderer's 
 dress. 
 
 4 To avoid bap- 
 tism. 
 
 5 known. 
 
 6 conduct. 
 
 7 languaK*:. 'ore. 
 
 8 To l)c n phy!>i- 
 cinn he feinncd. 
 
 9 ere he thence 
 went. 
 
200 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 « i.e. he opened 
 veins. 
 
 2 stroke. 
 
 3 died. 
 
 Vane organis he full clenely carvit', 
 Quhen of his straik- so mony starvit^ 
 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. 
 
 S begot of giants. 
 
 In Scotland than, the narrest way, 
 He come his cunnyng till assay; 
 To sum man thair it was no play 
 
 The preving* of his sciens. 
 In pottingry he wrocht grit pyne^, 
 He murdreist mony in medecyne : 
 The jow* was of a grit engyne^, 
 
 And generit was of gyans^. 
 
 9 i.e. for a night's 
 attendance. 
 
 lo means, re- 
 sources. 
 
 " instruments. 
 '2 rafter. 
 
 13 cabinet, garde 
 de viande. 
 
 In leichecraft he was homecyd; 
 He wald haif, for a nicht to byd', 
 A haiknay and the hurt manis hyd, 
 
 So meikle he was of myance'°. 
 His yrnis" was rude as ony rawchtir'*, 
 Quhair he leit blude it was no lawchtir; 
 Full mony instrument for slawchtir 
 
 Was in his gardevyance '^ 
 
 14 To cause a 
 strong horse 
 lose. 
 
 15 went. 
 
 16 halter, gallows. 
 
 He cowth gif cure for laxatyve 
 
 To gar a wicht horss want'" his lyve^ 
 
 Quha-evir assay wald, man or wyve, 
 
 Thair hippis yeid'^ hiddy-giddy. 
 His practikis nevir war put to preif 
 But suddane deid or grit mischief; 
 He had purgatioun to mak a theif 
 
 To dee withowt a widdy'^ 
 
THE FEN YE IT FREIR. 
 
 201 
 
 Vnto no mess pressit this prelat 
 
 For sound of sacring' bell nor skellat=; 
 
 As blak-smith bruikit was his pallat'' 
 
 Ffor battering at the study". 
 Thocht he come hame a new-maid channoun 
 He had dispensit with matynnis channoun; 
 On him come nowthir stole nor fannoun^ 
 
 For smowking of the smydy. 
 
 Me-thocht seir fassonis he assailyeit* 
 To mak the quintessance, and failyeit; 
 And, quhen he saw that nocht availyeit, 
 
 A fedrem^ on he tuke, 
 And schupe' in Turky for to fle. 
 And quhen that he did mont on he 
 All fowlis ferleit^ 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. 
 
 S scarf on left arm 
 of a priest at 
 mass. 
 
 6 many methods 
 he tried. 
 
 7 feathering. 
 
 8 prepared. 
 
 9 marvelled. 
 
 Sum held he had bene Dedalus, 
 Sum the Mynataur mervalus, 
 Sum the Martis smyth Wlcanus, 
 
 And sum Saturnus kuke. 
 And evir the cuschcttis'° at him tuggit, .o wood pigeon,. 
 
 The rukis him rent, the ravynis him druggif, "dragged. 
 The hudit crawis his hair furth raggit", "'°''- 
 
 The hevin he micht not bruke'^ '^""J^y- 
 
 The myttane'* and Sanct Martynis fowle'^ 
 Wend'* he had bene the hornit howle ; 
 Thay set avpone him with a yowle", 
 And gaif him dynt for dynt. 
 
 ■ 4 a hawk. 
 •S the iiiurtcii. 
 
 ■6 Ucciiicd. 
 17 scre»m. 
 
202 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 ' Cuckoo, cormo- 
 rant, and hawk. 
 
 The golk, the gormaw, and the gled' 
 Baft him with buffettis quhill he bled; 
 The spar-halk to the spring him sped, 
 Als fers as fyre of flynt. 
 
 2 a hawk. 
 
 3 in each ear. 
 
 4 magpie. 
 
 5 tear. 
 
 6 without stop. 
 
 7 claws. 
 
 8 possess. 
 
 9 in a grasp. 
 
 The tarsal!- gaif him tug for tug, 
 
 A stanchell hang in ilka lug^ 
 
 The pyof furth his pennis did rug^ 
 
 Thi stork straik ay but stynt^ 
 The bissart, bissy but rebuik, 
 Scho was so cleverus of hir clvik^ 
 His bawis he micht not langer bruik^ 
 
 Scho held thame at ane hint'. 
 
 10 jackdaws. 
 
 11 two kinds of 
 
 hawk. 
 
 12 mews. 
 
 13 made attack. 
 
 14 pecked. 
 
 15 uproar. 
 
 Thik was the clud of kayis'° and crawis, 
 Of marleyonis, mittanis", and of mawis'^ 
 That bikkrit'3 at his berd with blawis 
 
 In battell him abowt. 
 Thay nybillit"* him with noyis and cry, 
 The rerd's of thame raiss to the sky, 
 And evir he cryit on Fortoun, Fy ! 
 
 His lyfe was in-to dowt. 
 
 16 mocked with a 
 
 screech. 
 
 17 at its pleasure. 
 
 18 reached. 
 
 19 blow. 
 
 20 unwittingly 
 
 he betrayed 
 himself. 
 
 21 drenched. 
 
 22 oxen all 
 
 streaked. 
 
 The ja him skrippit with a skryke'^ 
 And skornit him as it was lyk'''; 
 The egill strong at him did stryke, 
 And rawcht'^ him mony a rowt'^ 
 Ffor feir vncunnandly he cawkit''", 
 Quhill all his pennis war drownd and drawkit"; 
 He maid a hundreth nolt all hawkit"^^ 
 Beneth him with a spowt. 
 
THE FENYEIT FREIR. 
 
 20q 
 
 He schewre' his feddreme that was schene", 
 And slippit owt of it full clene, 
 And in a myre vp to the ene 
 
 Amang the glar^ did glyd. 
 The fowhs all at the fedrem dang^ 
 As at a monster thame amang, 
 Quhill all the pennis of it owtsprang 
 
 In-till the air full wyde. 
 
 ■ sheared, cut. 
 3 beautiful 
 
 3 mud. 
 
 4 struck. 
 
 And he lay at the plunge evir-mair 
 
 Sa lang as any ravin did rair^; 
 
 The crawis him socht with cryis of cair 
 
 In every schaw* besyde. 
 Had he reveild bene to the rwikis' 
 Thay had him revin all with thair clwikis^ 
 Thre dayis in dub amang the dukis' 
 
 He did with dirt him hyde. 
 
 5 make noise. 
 
 6 covert. 
 
 7 rooks. 
 
 S claws. 
 
 9 in gutter among 
 the ducks. 
 
 The air was dirkit'° with the fowlis "darkened. 
 
 That come with yawmeris" and with yowlis'-, I2 scrcM"""^'" 
 With skryking'3, skrimming'\ and with scowlis, ;,' ^^;^^|;|i^s- 
 
 To tak him in the tyde, 
 
 I walknit's with the noyis and schowte, is wakened. 
 
 So hiddowis beir'* was me abowtc. 16 no«e of flight 
 
 Sen-syne"^ I curss that cankerit'^ rowte Is uuem'ilirred. 
 
 Quhair-evir I go or ryde. 
 
I Solicitors. 
 
 THE LADYIS SOLISTARIS.' 
 
 2 These. 
 
 3 known. 
 
 Thir^ ladyis fair that makis repair 
 
 And in the court ar kend^, 
 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. 
 
 4 trouble. 
 
 S gentle. 
 
 6 keep feast. 
 
 7 concern. 
 
 With littill noy" thay can convoy 
 
 Ane mater fynaly, 
 Richt myld and moy^ and keip it coy 
 
 On evyns quyetly. 
 Thay do no miss, bot gif thay kiss 
 
 And keipis collatioun*, 
 Quhat rek' of this? Thair mater is 
 
 Brocht to conclusioun. 
 
 8 know. 
 
 9 knowledge. 
 
 10 solicit. 
 " whit. 
 
 Ye may wit^ weill, thay half grit feill' 
 
 Ane mater to solist"; 
 Traist as the steill, syne nevir a deill" 
 
 Quhen thay cum hame is mist. 
 
THE LADYIS SOLISTARTS. 
 
 205 
 
 Thir lairdis ar, methink, richt far 
 
 Sic ladeis behaldin to, 
 That sa weill dar go to the bar 
 
 Quhen thair is ocht ado'. 
 
 Thairfoir I reid=, gif ye haif pleid^ 
 
 Or mater in-to pley'*, 
 To male remeid^ send in your steid 
 
 Your ladeis grathit* vp gay. 
 Thay can defend, evin to the end, 
 
 Ane mater furth express; 
 Suppois' thay spend, it is vnkend, 
 
 Thair geir^ is nocht the les. 
 
 In quyet place, and thay haif space. 
 
 Within less nor twa houris 
 Thay can, percaice^ purchess sum grace 
 
 At the compositouris. 
 Thair compositioun, without suspitioun, 
 
 Thair fynaly is endit; 
 With expeditioun and full remissioun 
 
 And seilis thairto appendit. 
 
 Alhaill" almoist thay mak the coist 
 
 With sobir recompens 
 Richt littill loist, thay get indoist" 
 
 Alhaill thair evidens. 
 Sic ladyis wyiss, thay ar to pryis", 
 
 To say the veretie; 
 Swa can dcvyiss'\ and nane suppryiss 
 
 Thame nor thair honestie. 
 
 > aught astir. 
 
 3 counsel. 
 
 3 pleading. 
 
 4 in plea. 
 
 5 remedy. 
 
 6 clad. 
 
 7 Although. 
 
 8 substance. 
 
 9 perchance. 
 
 >o All whole. 
 
 >i indorsed. 
 
 " pnasc. 
 
 I J That can »o 
 contrive. 
 
DISCRETIOUN IN ASKING. 
 
 Off every asking foUowis nocht 
 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. 
 
 1 though. 
 
 2 constant repeti- 
 
 tion, drone. 
 
 Ane fule, thocht' he haif causs or nane 
 Cryis ay "Gif me," in-to a drene''; 
 
 And he that drones ay as ane bee 
 Sowld haif ane heirar dull as stane : 
 
 In asking sowld discretioun be. 
 
 3 serves for. 
 
 4 is of my sort. 
 
 5 dies. 
 
 Sum askis mair than he deservis; 
 Sum askis far les than he servis^; 
 
 Sum schames to ask and breidis of me^ 
 And all withowt reward he stervis^: 
 
 In asking sowld discretioun be. 
 
 6 without. 
 
 To ask but^ seruice hurtis gud fame; 
 To ask for seruice is not to blame ; 
 
 To serve and leif in beggartie 
 To man and maistir is baith schame : 
 
 In asking sowld discretioun be. 
 
DISCRETIOUN IN ASKING. 
 
 207 
 
 He that dois all his best servyiss 
 May spill it all with crakkis' and cryis 
 
 Be fowll inoportunitie, 
 Few wordis may suffice to the wyis : 
 
 In asking sowld discretioun be. 
 
 Nocht neidfull is men sowld be dum ; 
 Na-thing is gottin but wordis sum. 
 
 Nocht sped but diligence Ave se; 
 For na-thing it allane will cum : 
 
 In asking sowld discretioun be. 
 
 Asking wald half convenient place, 
 Convenient tyme, lasar, and space, 
 
 But haist or preiss of grit menyie=. 
 But hairt abasit, but toung rekless : 
 
 In asking sowld discretioun be. 
 
 Sum micht haif Ye, with littill cure^ 
 That hes oft Nay, with grit labour; 
 
 All for his tyme nocht byd" can he 
 He tynis= baith eirand and honour: 
 
 In asking sowld discretioun be. 
 
 Suppois the servand be lang vnquit*^ 
 The lord sumtyme rewaird will it. 
 
 Gife he dois not, quhat remedy? 
 To flyte' with fortoun is no wit : 
 
 In asking sowld discretioun be. 
 
 > boastings. 
 
 2 effect of great 
 force. 
 
 3 Yea, with little 
 care. 
 
 4 abide, wait. 
 
 5 loses. 
 
 6 unrequlte<l. 
 
 7 scoUl. 
 
THE PETITION OF THE GRAY 
 HORSE, AULD DUNBAR. 
 
 1 Now when 
 lovers come with 
 gifts openly. 
 
 2 fillies will be 
 
 decked and 
 clothed. 
 
 3 commonality. 
 
 4 Yule jade. 
 
 Now lufferis cummis with largess lowd' 
 Quhy sould not palfrayis thane be prowd, 
 Quhen gillettis wil be schomd and schroud' 
 That ridden ar baith with lord and lawd^? 
 Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald 
 That I sould be ane Yuillis yaldM 
 
 5 condition. 
 
 6 gambols. 
 
 7 outside. 
 
 8 crop grass. 
 
 9 To coal-heavers 
 
 then must. 
 
 10 are scabbed, 
 
 crooked, and 
 rheumous. 
 
 Quhen I was young and into ply^ 
 And wald cast gammaldis*^ to the sky, 
 I had beine bocht in realmes by^ 
 Had I consentit to be sauld. 
 
 Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald 
 That I sould be ane YuilUs yald ! 
 
 With gentill horss quhen I wald knyp^ 
 Thane is thair laid on me ane quhip; 
 To colleveris than man' I skip 
 That scabbit ar, hes cruik and cald'°. 
 Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald 
 That I sould be ane Yuillis yald ! 
 
 " Though. 
 " placed. 
 
 '3 housing. 
 14 covered. 
 
 Thocht" in the stall I be nocht clappit" 
 As cursouris that in silk beine trappit. 
 With ane new houss'' I wald be happit'^ 
 
THE GRA Y HORSE. 
 
 209 
 
 Aganis this Crysthinmes for the cald. 
 Schir, lett it nevir in town be tald 
 That I sould be ane YuiUis yald ! 
 
 Suppois' I war ane aid yaid aver=, 
 Schott furth our clewch^ to pull the claver-*, 
 And had the strenth of all Stranaver, 
 I wald at YouU be housit and staid. 
 Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald 
 That I suld be ane Yuillis yald! 
 
 I Although. 
 
 - old spent hor»c 
 
 3 ravine, rough 
 
 ground. 
 
 4 clover. 
 
 I am ane auld horss, as ye knaw, 
 That evir in duill dois drugs and draw; 
 Great court horss puttis me fra the staw* 
 To fang the fog be firthe and fald'. 
 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 peild^; 
 
 I mycht be now tein in for eild'; 
 
 My bcikis ar spruning he'° 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 wyt"; 
 
 Quhen uther horss had bran to byt 
 
 I gat bot griss cnype" gif I wald. 
 
 Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald 
 
 That I sould be ane Yuillis yald. 
 
 u 
 
 5 in sorrow does 
 
 drag. 
 
 6 from the stal'. 
 
 7 To bile the 
 
 moss by out- 
 field and in- 
 field. 
 
 8 stripped. 
 
 9 taken in for age. 
 
 10 My cornier 
 
 teeth .ire pro- 
 jectinK high. 
 
 ■ I blame. 
 
 >^ but li''^**^ '" 
 crop. 
 
2IO 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 I doted on. 
 
 2 For ill-shorn 
 slraw that 1 
 would tear. 
 
 3 savings, goods. 
 
 4 possession. 
 
 5 shoemakers. 
 
 6 gnawed by 
 
 ugly gums. 
 
 7 over-ridden 
 
 mule. 
 
 8 trappings. 
 
 9 joint, lit. 
 shoulder-blade. 
 
 10 treasurer. 
 
 11 Which. 
 
 12 grey. 
 
 13 deck. 
 
 I was nevir dautit' into stabell ; 
 My lyf hes bene so miserable 
 My hyd to offer I am [bot] abill 
 For evill schom strae that I reive wald=. 
 Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald 
 That I sould be ane YuilHs yald ! 
 
 And yitt, suppois my thrift ^ be thyne, 
 Gif that I die your auchf* within 
 Latt nevir the soutteris^ have my skin 
 With ughe gumes to be gnawin^. 
 
 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 muilP; 
 Yett, to weir trappouris^ at this Yuill, 
 I wald be spurrit at everie spald^. 
 
 Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald 
 That I sould be ane Yuillis yald! 
 
 Responsio Regis. 
 
 Eftir our wrettingis, thesaurer", 
 
 Tak in this gray horss, Auld Dunbar, 
 
 Quhilk" in my aucht with schervice trew 
 
 In lyart" changeit is in hew. 
 
 Gar howss him now aganis this Yuill, 
 
 And busk '3 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 flocht', « on wing. 
 
 Quhair no-thing ferme is nor degest''; 3 composed. 
 
 And quhen I haif my mynd all socht, 
 
 For to be blyth me-think it best. 
 
 This warld evir dois flicht and wary^; 3 flit and vao-. 
 
 Ffortoun sa fast hir quheill dois cary, 
 
 Na tyme in turning can it tak rest : 
 For quhois fals change suld none be sary^; < sorry. 
 
 Ffor to be blyth me-think it best. 
 
 Wald men considdir in mynd richt weill, 
 
 Or^ Fortoun on him turn hir quheill, s Ere. 
 
 That erdly honour may nocht lest, 
 His fall less panefuU he suld feill : • 
 
 For to be blyth me-think it best. 
 
 Ouha with this warld dois warsill and stryfe', «■ wr«^.«ie ^nd 
 
 <- ^ strive 
 
 And dois his dayis in dolour dryfe, 
 
 Thocht' he in lordschip be possest, 1 ihouuii. 
 
 He levis bot ane wretchit lyfe : 
 
 For to be blyth me-think it best. 
 
212 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 Off warldis gud and grit richess 
 I fruit. Quhat fruct' hes man but miriness? 
 
 Thocht he this warld had eist and west 
 z without. All wer pouertie but^ glaidness ; 
 
 For to be blyth me-think it best. 
 
 3 loss. 
 
 4 Since. 
 
 Quho suld for tynsall^ drowp or de 
 For thyng that is bot vanitie, 
 
 Sen"* to the lyfe that evir dois lest 
 Heir is bot twynklyng of ane ee; 
 
 For to be blyth me-think it best. 
 
 5 long ago. 
 
 Had I for warldis vnkyndness 
 In hairt tane ony haviness, 
 
 Or fro my plesans bene opprest, 
 I had bene deid langsyne^ dowtless 
 
 For to be blyth me-think it best. 
 
 6 tumult. 
 
 How-evir this warld do change and vary 
 Lat ws in hairt nevir-moir be sary, 
 
 Bot evir be reddy and addrest 
 To pass out of this frawdfull fary*"; 
 
 For to be blyth me-think it best. 
 
MEDITATIOUN IN WYNTIR. 
 
 In-to thir dirk and drublie dayis' 
 Quhone" 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 dule^ spreit dois lurk forschoir'*, 
 My hairt for languor dois forloir^ 
 For laik of symmer with his fiouris. 
 
 I walk^ I turne, sleip can I nocht, 
 
 I vexit am with havy thocht; 
 This warld all ouir I cast about, 
 And euer the mair I am in dout, 
 
 The mair that I remeid have socht. 
 
 I am assayit on everie syde 
 Dispair sayis ay, " In tyme prowyde, 
 And get sum-thing quhairon to leif, 
 Or with grit trouble and mischcif 
 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." 
 
 < these dark and 
 troubled days, 
 a %Vhcn. 
 
 3 doleful. 
 
 4 dejected. 
 
 5 become useless. 
 
 6 wake. 
 
214 
 
 WILLIAM DUNBAR. 
 
 I that which will 
 away. 
 
 « that which thou 
 mayest in no 
 wise have. 
 
 And Prudence in my eir sayis ay, 
 " Quhy wald thou hald that will away'? 
 Or craif that thou may have no spaced 
 Thow tending to ane-uther place, 
 A journay going everie day?" 
 
 3 Presently. 
 
 4 gates. 
 
 5 These open 
 
 await you, 
 lit. shall you 
 endure. 
 
 6 stoop. 
 
 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 male 
 Off all thi tyme thow spendit heir." 
 
 Syne^ Deid castis up his yettis" wyd, 
 Saying, "Thir oppin sail ye abyd^. 
 Albeid that thow were never sa stout, 
 Vndir this lyntall sail thow lowt®; 
 Thair is nane vther way besyd." 
 
 7 chest. 
 
 prevent. 
 
 For feir of this all day I drowp : 
 No gold in kist', nor wyne in cowp, 
 No ladeis bewtie, nor luififis blys 
 May lat*^ me to remember this. 
 How glaid that ever I dyne or sowp. 
 
 9 shorten. 
 
 Yit, quhone the nycht begynnis to schort' 
 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 eari, fifth in succession from the first Earl 
 Douglas of Angus and the youngest daughter of 
 King Robert III., was Archibald, surnamcd " licll 
 the Cat" from a famous historic incident of the 
 
2i8 GAVIN 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 cljaracter 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 15 15, 
 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 
 seats of learning abroad, though the statement* that 
 " there is undoubted proof that his education was 
 finished at the University of Paris " still lacks corro- 
 boration. 
 
 His later career affords a striking contrast to that 
 of his contemporary Dunbar. It is as if the fortunes 
 
 * Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii., p. 3. 
 
GAVIN DOUGLAS. 219 
 
 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 llic 
 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 chaplainrics, 
 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 GAVIN 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 Rebellis, and 
 Personis being at our souerane Lordis hornej" and 
 he is supposed to have even visited Rome for the 
 furtherance of certain interests 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 VIN DOUGLAS. 221 
 
 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 "comniuni 
 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 llic 
 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 ihc power- 
 
222 GA VIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 ful 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 15 14, 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 l.ords 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 Darnley, husband of Queen Mary, 
 was father of James VL" 
 
GA VIN 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 IL 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 waa a daughter of Lord Druniiiiond. 
 
224 GAVIN 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, 15 15, 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 VIIL, 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 sufificiently 
 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 
 
GAVIN 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, 151 7, 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 , asgow 
 cathedral, an Act of the Scottish rarliament had erected (.lasgow 
 into an archbishopric, with the Bishops of Dunkeld, ^^ " "J '' •-»"«■•. 
 Galloway, and Argyle as suffragans, and the Act ha.l 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 " 
 
226 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 Glasgow, and the Earls of Arran, 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" {Atiglice, telling tales). 
 And immediately betaking himself to his nephew, he 
 bade him defend himself like a man. " As for me," 
 
GAVIN 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-Catiseway. 
 
 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 approi)riated her 
 Ettrick Forest rents, worth 4000 mcrks yearly, and, 
 
228 GAVIN 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, 
 152 1, 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 enhst 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 perpetuall 
 schayme." For some months he remained in London, 
 on intimate terms with Wolsey and Wolsey's friend, 
 Polydore Virgil the historian. Had he lived he 
 might still, despite the intrigues of his rival Beaton, 
 
GAVIN 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 t;enius, 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 Dunkcld.* 
 
 • Canto vi., st. 11. 
 
230 GAVIN 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 17 10; 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 ]\Iay morning, falls into a 
 swoon and sees pass him in succession the courts of 
 Minerva, Diana, and Venus. 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 his 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 io 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, though 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 bent ; and amid the variety 
 of the great epic he struck at last upon the true 
 
GAVIN DOUGLAS, 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 
 Renaissance 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, yEneas 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 yEneid 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 /E^ieid 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 yEneid, and to tlie 
 additional book by Mapheus Vcgius 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 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 of the poet he adds, "there is nothing Uke 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, Rolland 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. 
 
 The ^'■ballad" curious for its plethora of rhymes, with which 
 ^^ The Palice of HoJiour" coruludes. 
 
 HIE Honour! sweit heuinlie flour degest', • grave. 
 Gem verteous, maist precious, gudliest ; 
 For hie renoun thou art guerdoun conding=, " condign, fit 
 
 Of worschip kend^ the glorious end and rest, 
 But" quhome in richt na worthie wicht may lest. 
 Thy greit puissance may maist auance all thing. 
 And powerall to mekill auaill^ sone bring, 
 I the requeir, sen thow but peir art best, 
 That efter this in thy hie blis we ring*. 
 
 3 Of worth ascer- 
 
 tained. 
 
 4 Without. 
 
 S poor folic to 
 much conse. 
 qucncc. 
 
 6 reign. 
 
 Of grace thy face in euerie place sa schynis 
 That sweit all spreit baith heid and feit inclynis 
 Thv gloir afoir for till imploir remeid. 
 
 •' ° .7 avails. 
 
 He docht' richt nocht, quhilk" out of thocht the tynis'! s who. 
 
 ' _ 9 loses. 
 
 Thy name but blame, and royal fame, diuine is; 
 
 ,„ , /- , 1 _,;jii ■I' Rate, in sliort. 
 
 Thow port, at schort," of our comfort and rcid „ ^.oumncI. 
 Till bring all thing till glaiding cfter dcid ; „ ji„.i„u,.es. 
 
 All wicht but sicht of thy greit micht ay crynis'^ >>j""'<- 
 
 ' ° 11 sliininR one. 
 
 O schene'M I mene'^ nanc may sustcnc thy fcid''^ ;*'^'r^- 
 
236 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 I Was always 
 each day 
 
 causing. 
 
 2 succour. 
 
 3 degree, prize. 
 
 4 Extend thee 
 
 soon to wipe 
 me quit of 
 shame. 
 
 Haill, rois maist chois til clois thy fois greit micht ! 
 Haill, stone quhilk schone vpon the throne of Hcht ! 
 
 Vertew, quhais trew sweit dew ouirthrew al vice, 
 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 
 
 Till be supplie"", and the hie gre^ of price. 
 Delite the tite me quite of site to dicht*, 
 
 For I apply 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 vre', 
 So semlie wes he set his folk amang 
 
 That he no dout had of misaventure; 
 
 So proudlie wes he pohst, 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. 
 
 > much labour. 
 
 For wes he never yit with schouris schot^ 
 
 Nor yet ourrun with rouk^ or ony rayne : 
 In all his lusty lecam^ nocht ane spot, 
 
 Na never had experience into payne ; 
 
 Bot alway into lyking, nocht to layne^ 
 Onlie to love and verrie gentilnes 
 
 He wes inclynit cleinlie to remane 
 And wonn^ vnder the wyng of Wantownness. 
 
 [Close by stands the delightful palace of Dame Pleasance, and 
 one day surrounded by her handmaids. Beauty, Kinrjness, Mirth, 
 and others, she appears with all her forces near the castle <*( 
 King Hart. Alarm is brought by the watchmen to the liall 
 where the king is sitting, whereupon] 
 
 2 with sorrows 
 assailctl. 
 
 3 ovor-run wiih 
 moisture. 
 
 4 his fair body. 
 
 S in pleasure, to 
 say truth, /it. 
 not to lie. 
 
 6 dwell. 
 
238 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 t hooked. Youthheid vpstart and cleikit' on his cloik, 
 
 2broidered. Was browdin'' all with lustie levis grene; 
 
 3 soak, rest. " Ryse, Freschc Delyte ! lat nocht this mater soke^; 
 
 We will go se quhat may this muster mene. 
 
 4 share. So Weill we Sail ws it cope" betwene, 
 
 Thair sail nothing pas away vnspyit ; 
 
 5 Afterwards. Syn^ Sail we tcU the king as we have sene, 
 
 And thar sail nothing trewlie be denyit," 
 
 6 abide. 
 
 7 made way. 
 
 Youthheid furth past, and raid on Innocence, 
 
 Ane mylk-quhyt steid that ambilit as the wynd; 
 And Fresche Delyt raid on Benevolence, 
 
 Throw-out the meid that wald nocht byd^ behind. 
 
 The hemes bricht almost had maid thame blind 
 That fra fresche Bewtie spred vnder the cloude. 
 
 To hir thay socht^ and sone thai culd hir find; 
 No saw thai nane never wes half sa proude. 
 
 8 barons. 
 
 9 marred in mood, 
 disconcerted 
 
 " went. 
 
 The bernis^ both wes basit of the sicht. 
 And out of mesour marrit in thair mude': 
 10 on white steeds ^s gpreitlcs folkis on blonkis hvffit on hicht'° 
 
 paused on high. ^ 
 
 Both in ane studie starand still thai stude. 
 
 Fayr-Calling freschlie on hir wayis yuid" 
 And both thair reynyeis cleikit in hir handis, 
 
 Syn to hir castell raid as scho war woude", 
 And festnit vp thir folkis in Venus' bandis. 
 
 [Other messengers whom the king 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]. 
 
 »2 mad. 
 
KING HART. 239 
 
 Discretioun wes as than bot 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 l^ehind, 
 He swakit in his ene' and maid him blinde. ' drished imo 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. , , ^ 
 
 ° -1 .» ^ 2 A further, 
 
 Cum ! farar- way ye micht your harmes wreik^ another. 
 
 J J J 3 your hurts 
 
 Than thus to murdour ws that yoldin ar. avenge. 
 
 Wald ye ws rew, quhair-euir we micht our reik-* * ''"^''^IJi^Yo? 
 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, but^ folk war hir about ; 5 unless. 
 
 , . , , , ^ J) * a trick I could 
 
 That IS ane craft myself culd never ken". never take 
 
 cognizance of. 
 
 With that scho ran vnto the Lady kene'; 7 intrepid. 
 
 Kneland, " Madame," scho said, " keip Pietie fast ! 
 
 Sythen« scho ask, no licence to her len'. ' f^Ld.""^''- 
 
 May scho wyn'" out scho will play yow a cast"." ;°k«-j^ 
 
 [Alas! then came a night when Danger slept.] 
 
 The dure on chare it stude; all wes on slcip; 
 
 And Pietie doun the stair full sone is past. 
 This Bissines hes sene, and gave gud keip'-"; -'heed. 
 
 Dame Pietie hes he hint'^ in arnicis fast. laseiied. 
 
240 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 He callit on Lust, and he come at the last ; 
 'caused. His bandis gart' 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.] 
 
 2 make me not. 
 
 3 I saved your 
 (life), though 
 it be no argu- 
 ment. 
 
 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 nocht- to smart !" 
 
 The fayr Quene said vpone this wyss him till. 
 
 " I sauf youris, suppois it be no skills 
 All that I haue, and all that myne may be. 
 
 With all my hairt I offer heir yow till. 
 And askis nocht bot ye be trew till me." 
 
 4 ere ever he 
 stretched. 
 
 Till that [quhilk] Loue, Desyre, and Lust devysit 
 
 Thus fair Dame Plesance sweitlie can assent. 
 Than suddandlie Schir Hart him now disgysit, 
 On gat his amouris clok or euer he stent ''. 
 Freschlie to feist thir amouris folk ar went, 
 s as messenger. Blythncs wcs first brocht bodwardc^ to the hall: 
 
 Dame Chastite, that selie innocent, 
 ^ flew ^fover."^ For WO ycid wode, and flaw out our' the wall. 
 
 7 messes. 
 
 8 savours. 
 
 9 quickly. 
 
 The lustie Quene, scho sat in middes the deiss ; 
 
 Befoir hir stude the nobill wourthy King. 
 Servit thai war of mony diuerss meiss'. 
 
 Full sawris^ sweit and swyth' thai culd thame bring. 
 
KING HART. 241 
 
 Thus thai maid ane [richt] mirrie marschalling ; 
 Bewtie and Loue ane hait burde' hes begun; lahottuwif. 
 
 In wirschip of that lustie feist so ding= » 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 at^ the sone so schene* \\2l[ 
 Out raschit^ had his bemis frome the sky, s dashed. 
 
 Ane auld gude-man befoir the yet* was sene, *^^*"^- 
 
 Apone ane steid that raid full easalie. 
 He rappit at the yet, but courtaslie, . 
 
 ^^ •' ' 7 the donjon- 
 
 Yit at the straik the grit dungeoun can din'; r^m^nded. 
 
 Syne at the last he schowted fellonlie", s violently. 
 
 And bad thame rys, and said he wald cum in. 
 
 9 above. 
 ( )) 10 over. 
 
 Sone Wantownnes come to the wall abone', 
 And cryit our"^, " Quhat folk are ye thair out?' 
 
 "My name is Age," said he agane full sone, 
 
 " May thow nocht heir? Langar how I culd schout !" 
 " What war your will?" "I will come in, but dout." 
 
 " Now God forbid ! In fayth ye cum nocht heir ! 
 
 Rin on thy way, [or] thow sail beir ane route", " '''°^'- 
 
 And say the portar he is wonder sweir"." "obstinate.///. 
 
 [At this news the courtiers begin to take flight. Vouthheid is 
 the first to go; and here, says Merry Ross, '_^ even allegory 
 cannot chill the tenderness of the king's farewell."] 
 
 , , . , . I «) Since then 
 
 "Sen thou man pas'\ fair Youthheid, wa is mc ! musiRo. 
 
 Thow wes my freynd, and maid me gude scruice. 
 Fra thow be went never so blyth to be 
 
 I mak ane vow, [aljthocht that it be nycc'^ 
 
 R 
 
 u Toolith. 
 II 
 
242 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 J prize. 
 
 2 reward. 
 
 3 ere thou go. 
 
 4 with skill. 
 
 5 desire. 
 
 6 take. 
 
 Of all blythnes thy bodie beiris the pryce'. 
 To warisoun' I gif the, or thow ga^, 
 
 This fresche visar, wes payntit at devyce^ 
 My lust 2 alway with the se that thow ta*. 
 
 7 till. 
 
 S hurt. 
 
 9 without argu- 
 ment, i.e. in- 
 deed. 
 
 *' For saik of the I will no colour reid 
 
 Nor lusty quhyte vpone my bodie beir, 
 Bot blak and gray; alway, quhilP I be deid, 
 
 I will none vther wantoun wedis weir. 
 
 Fayr-weill, my freynd ! Thow did me never deir^ 
 Vnwelcum Age, thow come agane my will ! 
 
 I lat the wit I micht the weill forbeir. 
 Thy warisoun suld be [richt] small but skill'." 
 
 [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. 
 
 " snare. 
 
 12 makes. 
 
 13 children. 
 
 Ressoun rais vp, and in his roUis he brocht. 
 
 "Gif I sail say, the sentence sail be plane; 
 Do never the thing that ever may scayth the ocht"; 
 
 Keip mesour and trouth, for thairin lyes na trayne". 
 
 Discretioun suld ay with King Hart remane. 
 Thir vthir young folk-seruandis ar bot fulis. 
 
 Experience mais''' Knawlege now agane, 
 And barnis'^ young suld lerne at auld mennis sculis. 
 
 14 tastes. "Quha gustis"* sweit, and feld nevir of the sowre, 
 
 15 seasoning. Quhat Can [hc] Say? How may he seasoun'^ juge? 
 
 Quha sittis hate, and feld nevir cauld ane hour, 
 the lodge." ^'^ Quhat wcddcr is thairout vnder the luge'^ 
 
KING HART. 
 
 243 
 
 How suld he wit'? That war ane mervalc hugel'*^"°*- 
 To by richt blew^ that nevir ane hew had sene! ' "^i;,!;"^' '"" 
 
 Ane servand be, that nevir had sene ane fuge^! 3 bundle. 
 Suppois it ryme it accordis nocht all clene. 
 
 "To wiss^ the richt and to disvse the wrang, 
 That is my scule to all that list to leyr-\" 
 
 ^ understand. 
 
 5 that cliooie 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 I>y Heaviness. 
 Here, before long, he is besieged by the forces of Decrep.iude, 
 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. 
 
 Fro7n the Fourth Book of the ^neid. 
 
 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, 
 
 1 The great worth -phe large wirschio feill syse' remembris sche 
 
 many times. ° '^ ■" 
 
 Of his lynage and folkis ; for ay present 
 
 2 imprinted. Dcip in hir breist so wes his figur prent'' 
 
 And all his wordis fixt, that, for besy thocht, 
 
 3 might. None eis hir membris nor quyete suffir mocht^. 
 
 4iEneas. Sum-tyme the quene Enee* with hir did leid 
 
 s place, steading. Throw-out the wallis onto euery steid^, 
 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 
 6 erstwhile. To scik wayis hym to feist, as sche did air'^, 
 And, half myndles, agane sche langis sair 
 
DIDO'S HUNTING PARTY. 
 
 245 
 
 For tyll inquyre and heir the sege of Troy, 
 
 And in a stair' 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 brycht= 
 
 To skip and rest perswadis euery \\7cht. 
 
 Within her chalmer allane scho langis 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 soun^; 
 
 His voce scho heris, and him behaldis sche, 
 
 Thocht" he, God wait, fer from her presence be. 
 
 And sum-tyme wald scho Ascanius, the page, 
 
 Caucht= in the figur of his faderis ymage 
 
 And in hir bosum brace, gif scho tharby 
 
 The luif vntellable mycht swyk^ or satisfy. 
 
 The werk and wallis begovn ar nocht upbrocht ; 
 
 The younkeris deidis of amies exercis nocht ; 
 
 Nodir' fortreis nor turratis suir of weir^ 
 
 Now graith' thai mair; for all the werk, but weir, 
 
 Cessis and is stoppit, baith of pynnakles hye 
 
 And byg towris, semyt to ryse in the skye.* 
 
 '■ gaze. 
 
 3 the bright stan. 
 
 3 sound. 
 
 4 Though. 
 
 S Catch. 
 
 '< assuage. 
 
 7 Neither. 
 
 8 sure turrets of 
 
 war. 
 
 9 prepare. 
 
 Furth of the see, with this, the dawing springis. 
 As Phebus rais, fast to the yettis thringis'° 
 The chois galandis, and huntmen thaim besyde 
 With ralis and with nettis Strang and wyde 
 And hunting speris stif with hedis braid. 
 
 * Each book of the Aindd was divided by DouRlas into 
 chapters, and the two passages above, descriptive of Dido s 
 passion, are included from the first and second chapters of Book 
 IV. as introducing the incidents of the hunt in chapter four. 
 
 10 eagerly to the 
 gate;, throng. 
 
246 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 From Massylyne horsmen thik thiddir raid, 
 With rynning hundis, a full huge sort, 
 
 1 tarrying at the Noblis of Cartage, hovand at the port'. 
 
 The quene awatis that lang in chalmer dwellis. 
 Hir fers steid stude stamping, reddy ellis, 
 
 2 champing. Rungeaud" the fomy goldin bitt jingling, 
 
 Of goldin pall wrocht his riche harnissing. 
 And scho, at last, of palice ischit out, 
 3 company. With huge menzc^ walking hir about; 
 
 4 embroidered. Lappit in ane brusif mantill of Sydony, 
 
 5 twisted. With gold and perle the bordour all bewrys, 
 
 6 quiver. Hingaud by hir syde the cais* with arrowis ground ; 
 
 Hir brycht tressis envolupit war and wound 
 
 7 coif, hood. Intill a kuafe^ of fyne gold wyrin threid ; 
 
 s purple attire. The goldin buttoun claspit hir purpour weidl 
 And furth scho passit with all hir company. 
 
 9 gathered about. The Troianc peple forgadderit^ by and by 
 
 Joly and glaid the fresche Ascanius ying ; 
 
 Bot first of all, most gudlie, hym-self, thar king 
 
 10 without doubt. Enee, gan entir in falloschip, but dout", 
 "joined. And vnto thaim adionyt" 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, 
 
 12 visit. To vesy'^ 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, 
 
 13 guise, manner. Schowtand on ther gise'3 with clamour and vocis hie, 
 
DIDO'S HUNTING PARTY. 
 
 247 
 
 Apon thi top, INIont Cynthus, walkis he, 
 His wavand haris, sum-tyme, doing down thring" 
 With a soft garland of lawrere^" sweit smelling. 
 And wmquhile^ thaim gan balmyng and anoynt 
 And into gold addres at full gude poynt^; 
 His grundin dartis clattering by his syde, 
 Als fresch, als lusty ^ did Eneas r>de, 
 With als gret bewtie in his lordlie face. 
 
 I thronging 
 down. 
 
 3 laurel. 
 
 3 formerly. 
 
 4 in good order. 
 
 5 desirable. 
 
 And eftir thai ar cumin to the chace, 
 Amang the montanis in the wild forrest, 
 The ryning hundis of cuplis sone thai kest, 
 And our the clewis and the holtis belyf" 
 The wild bestis dovn to the daill thai drive. 
 Lo, ther the rais^ rynning swyft as fyre, 
 Drevin from the hychtis' brekkis out at the swyre'. 
 Ane-vther part, syne" yonder mycht thow see 
 The hirdis of hartis, with ther heidis hie, 
 Ourspynnerand" with swyft cours the plane vaiU, 
 The hepe of dust wpstouring'= at thair taill, 
 Fleand the hundis, leiffand the hie montanis. 
 And Ascanyus, the child, amyde the planis, 
 Joyus and blyth, his stertling'' steid to assay, 
 Now makkis his renk'-* yondir, and now this way. 
 Now prekis furth by thir and now by thaim 's 
 Langing, amang faynt frayit'* beistis vntame, 
 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 rowt"; 
 
 6 over the dells 
 and the woods 
 quickly. 
 
 7 roes. 
 
 E heights. 
 9 gorge. 
 
 «o presently. 
 
 II fleeting.over. 
 13 upstorming. 
 
 13 restless. 
 
 «4 course. 
 
 «5 by these and 
 those. 
 
 16 afTrighted. 
 
248 GA VI N DOUGLAS. 
 
 1 blast. A bub' of weddir followit in the taill, 
 
 2 mixed. Thik schour of rane myddillit" full of haill. 
 
 3 scatters far and ^j^g Tyriau iiienye skalis wydequhair^ 
 
 And all the galandis of Troy fled heir and thair, 
 And eik with thaim the yong Ascanius, 
 Nevo to King Dardane and to Venus. 
 
 4 places. For feir to diuers stedis" throw the feildis 
 
 ^ "^Tehersr*^ Thai scik to haldis, housis, hirnis, and beildis^ 
 6 suddenly. The rivcris rudlie ruschit our hillis bedene^ 
 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, 
 ' Toddfst. And eik of wedlok the pronuba' Juno, 
 ^ '^^nowiedT'^ ^^"''^ °^ "^"^^^ cupling wittering schew the air^; 
 9 lightning. The flamb of fyreflauchf lychtnyt heir and thar, 
 '° "truth?' '^^''"And on the hilHs hie toppes, but les'", 
 "named. g^^ mumyug nymphis, hait" Oreades. 
 
 This was the foremast day of hir glaidnes 
 And first morow of hir wofuU distres ; 
 
 12 fashion. ^Qx nother the fassoun''' nor the maner sche 
 
 Attendis now, nor fame, ne honestie, 
 Nor from thens-furthwart Dido ony moir 
 Musis on luif, secret, as of befoir, 
 
 13 calls. Bot clepis'3 it spousage, and with that fair name 
 
 Clokit and hyd hir cryme of oppyne schame. 
 
WINTER. 
 
 Prologue to the Seventh Book of the ^tieid. 
 
 As brycht Phebus, schene souerane', hevynnis e, 
 
 The opposit held of his chyinmis hie", 
 
 Cleir schynand bemys, and goldin symmeris hew, 
 
 In lattoun^ colour altering haill-* of new, 
 
 Kithing no syng^ 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-thocht* he be the hart and lamp of hevin 
 
 Forfebht wolx his lemand giltly lewyne' 
 
 Throw the declyning of his large round speir. 
 
 The frosty regioun ringis^ of the yeir, 
 
 The tyme and sessoune bitter cald and paill, 
 
 Thai schort days that clerkis clepe brumaill. 
 
 Quhen brym' blastis of the northyne art'" 
 
 Ourquhelmit had Neptunus in his cart, 
 
 And all to schaik the levis of the treis, 
 
 The rageand storm ourwalterand wally seis", 
 
 Reveris ran reid on spait" with wattcir i)roune, 
 
 And burnis hurlis all thair bankis downe, 
 
 And landbrist rumland rudely wyth sic bcir'\ 
 
 ' slaning sove- 
 reign. 
 
 3 mansions high. 
 
 3 mixed metal, 
 
 prob. brass. 
 
 4 wholly. 
 
 5 Showing no 
 
 sign. 
 
 * .\lthough. 
 
 7 Ver>' feeble 
 waxed his 
 glowing gilded 
 
 3 reigns. 
 
 9 fierce. 
 
 10 direction. 
 
 >i over-riding 
 wavy seas. 
 
 ■ a flood. 
 
 «1 breaker> rum- 
 bling with 
 such noite. 
 
250 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 ' dolphins (sea- 
 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. 
 
 «o stony cliffs 
 shone. 
 
 " blasts. 
 12 piercing. 
 
 >3 Thick foggy 
 shadows 
 darkened. 
 
 «4 threw. 
 
 IS cruel blasts. 
 
 i6 showers. 
 17 biting. 
 
 i8 dreary. 
 
 J9 flooded with 
 torrent. 
 
 So loud ne rummist wyld lioun or beir. 
 
 Fludis monstreis, sic as meirswyne or quhailis' 
 
 For the tempest law in the deip devallyis^ 
 
 Mars Occident, retrograide in his speir, 
 
 Provocand stryff, regnit as lord that yeir. 
 
 Rany Orioune wyth his stormy face 
 
 Bewalit of the schipman by his rays, 
 
 Frawart^ Saturne, chill of complexioune, 
 
 Throw quhais aspect derth and infectioune 
 
 Bene causit oft, and mortale pestilens, 
 
 Went progressiue the greis of his ascens"*; 
 
 And lusty Hebe, Junois douchtir gay. 
 
 Stud spulyeit^ of hir office and array. 
 
 The soill ysowpit into wattir wak*. 
 
 The firmament ourkest with rokis' blak, 
 
 The ground fadyt, and fauch wolx® all the feildis, 
 
 Montayne toppis sleikit wyth snaw ourheildis', 
 
 On raggit rolkis of hard harsk quhyne stane 
 
 With frosyne frontis cauld clynty clewis schane'°. 
 
 Bewtie wes lost, and barrand schew the landis 
 
 With frostis haire ourfret the feildis standis. 
 
 Soure bittir bubbis" and the schowris snell" 
 
 Semyt on the sward ane similitude of hell, 
 
 Reducyng to our mynd, in every steid, 
 
 Goustly schaddois of eild and grisly deid, 
 
 Thik drumly scuggis dirknit'^ so the hevyne. 
 
 Dym skyis oft furth warpit''' feirfuU levyne, 
 
 Flaggis of fyir, and mony felloun flawe'^, 
 
 Scharp soppis'* of sleit and of the snypand'' snawe. 
 
 The dowy'^ dichis war all donk and wait, 
 
 The law vaille flodderit all wyth spaif, 
 
WINTER. 
 
 251 
 
 The plane streits and e\ery hie way 
 
 Full of fluschis, doubbis, myre, and clay. 
 
 Laggerit leys wallowit' farnys schewe, 
 
 Broune muris kithit thair wysnit= mossy hewe, 
 
 Bank, bra, and boddum^ blanschit wolx and bair, 
 
 For gurll'' weddir growyt bestis haire. 
 
 The wynd maid wayfe^ the reid weyd on the dyk; 
 
 Bedovin in donkis deyp vves every syk^ 
 
 Our craggis and the front of rochis seyre' 
 
 Hang gret isch-schoklis lang as ony spere. 
 
 The grund stude barrand, widderit, desk, and gray; 
 
 Herbis, flouris, and gersis wallowit away^ 
 
 Woddis, forestis, wyth nakyt bewis blout^ 
 
 Stud strypyt of thair weyd in every hout'°, 
 
 So bustuysly" Boreas his bugill blew, 
 
 The deyr full dern"^ dovn in the dalis drew. 
 
 Smal byrdis, flokand throw thik ronnis"^ thrang, 
 
 In chyrmyng and with cheping'* changit thair sang, 
 
 Sekand hidlis and hirnys'^ thaim to hyde 
 
 Fra feirfuU thudis of the tempestuus tyde. 
 
 The wattir lynnis routtis", and euery lynde" 
 
 Quhyslyt and brayt of the swouchand'^ 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 dantif' gretar bestial 
 
 Within thair stabillis sesyt'" into stall, 
 
 Sic as mulis, horsis, oxin, and ky", 
 
 Fed tuskit baris, and fat swyne in sty, 
 
 Sustenit war by mannis gouernance 
 
 I Bemired leas 
 withered. 
 
 ' showeJ their 
 withered. 
 
 3 bottom. 
 
 4 stormy. 
 
 5 wave. 
 
 6 rill. 
 
 7 man)'. 
 
 8 grasses 
 withered away. 
 
 9 boughs bare. 
 
 10 wood 0>olO. 
 
 11 rudely. 
 
 " secretly. 
 
 13 shrubs. 
 
 14 twittering and 
 
 chirping. 
 
 •5 hiding-places 
 
 and corners. 
 
 10 roar. 
 
 17 lime-tree. 
 
 •S soughing. 
 
 ■9 daunted. 
 » secured. 
 >■ Icine. 
 
252 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 On hervist and on symmeris purviance. 
 Widequhair' with fors so Eolus schouttis schylP 
 In this congelit sessioune scharp and chyll, 
 The callour^ air, penetrative and puire, 
 Dasyng-* the bluide in every creature, 
 genial hot fires. Maid scilc Warm stovis and beyne fyris hoyt=, 
 under-vest. In double gamiont cled and wyly-coyt°, 
 
 Wyth mychty drink and meytis confortive, 
 Agayne the storme wyntre for to strive. 
 
 far and near, 
 shrill. 
 
 cool. 
 
 Dazing, stupe 
 fying. 
 
 7 Refreshed. Repaterit' Weill and by the chymnay beykyt^ 
 
 9 stretched. At evin be tyme dovne a bed I me streikit', 
 
 10 Wrapped. Warpit" my heid, kest on claythis thrinfauld, 
 
 For till expell the perrellus peirsand cauld. 
 " then prepared. I crocit me, syne bownit" for to sleip 
 
 12 heed. 
 
 13 glances. 
 
 14 distorted. 
 
 15 horrible. 
 
 16 uncanny. 
 
 17 Over. 
 
 Quhair, lemand throw the glas, I did tak keip" 
 Latonia, the lang irksum nycht, 
 Hir subtell blenkis'^ 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. 
 Laithlie of forme, wyth crukit camschow'-* beik, 
 Vgsum'= to heir was hir wyld elriche'* screik. 
 The wyld geis claking eik by nychtis tyde 
 Attoure'' the citie fleand hard I glyde. 
 
 18 grave, deep. On slummyr I slaid full sad'^ and slepit sownd 
 Quhill the oriyont wpwart gan rebound. 
 
WINTER. 
 
 253 
 
 Phebus' crownit byrd, the nychtis orloger, 
 Clappand his wyngis thryse had crawin cleir. 
 Approching neir the greiking' of the day, 
 Wythin my bed I waikynnit quhair I lay. 
 So fast declinis Synthea the mone, 
 And kais keklis* on the ruiff abone^ 
 Palamedes byrdis Grouping in the sky, 
 Fleand on randoune* 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 treis^ 
 The soir gled*^ quhish's loud \\7th 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-wyndo' vnschet a Ijtill on char, 
 Persawit the mornyng bla, wan, and har®, 
 Wyth cloudy gum and rak' ourquhelmit the air, 
 The soulye stythlie hasart, rowch, and hair'°, 
 Branchis brattlyng, and blayknit schew the brays". 
 With hyrstis harsk of waggand wyndilstrays". 
 The dew-droppis congelyt on stybill and rynd. 
 And scharp hailstanis, mortfundit'^ of kynd, 
 Hoppand on the thak and 011 the causay'* by. 
 The schot I clossit and drew inwart in hy"5, 
 Chiverand for cauld, the sessoun was so snell, 
 Schup"^ with hait flambe to fleme" the fresyng fell, 
 And as I bownit"* me to the fyre me by 
 Bayth wp and downe the hous I did aspy, 
 And seand Virgill on ane lettrune'' stand, 
 
 » graying, dawn. 
 
 » 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. 
 
 'o The soil hard- 
 frosted, misty, 
 and gray. 
 
 " bleak appeared 
 the hills. 
 
 '= bare spots 
 rough with 
 wagging dried 
 grasses. 
 
 «3 cold as death. 
 M thatch and 
 causeway. 
 '5 in haste. 
 
 >6 addressed me. 
 '7 drive away. 
 
 >8 addressed. 
 
 >9 writing table. 
 
254 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 I seized. 
 
 2 ere then. 
 
 3 became 
 annoyed some- 
 what. 
 
 4 must. 
 
 5 chance. 
 
 6 Overturned, 
 
 7 though. 
 
 8 chose. 
 
 9 to leave over. 
 
 10 stop. 
 
 « one-fold, 
 honest. 
 
 »» out-field and 
 in-field. 
 
 To writ anone I hynt' ane pen in hand, 
 
 For till performe the poet grave and sad, 
 
 Quham sa fer furth, or than^, begun I had, 
 
 And wolx ennoyit sum-deylP in my hart, 
 
 Thair restit vncompleittit so gret ane part, 
 
 And til myself I said in guid effect, 
 
 "Thow man* draw forth, the yok lyis on thi nek." 
 
 Wythin my mynd compasing thocht I so, 
 
 "Na-thing is done quhill ocht remanis to do." . 
 
 For byssines quhilk occurrit on cace^ 
 
 Ourvoluit*^ I this volume lay ane space. 
 
 And, thocht^ I wery was, me lyst* nocht tyre, 
 
 Full laith to leve our^ werk swa in the myre. 
 
 Or yit to stynt'° for byttir storme or rane. 
 
 Heyr I assayit to yok our pleuch agane. 
 
 And, as I culd, with afauld" diligence 
 
 This nixt buike following of profund sentence 
 
 Has thus begoune in the chyll wyntir cauld, 
 
 Quhen frostis days ourfret bayth fyrth and fauld". 
 
MORNING IN MAY. 
 
 Prologue to the Twelfth Book of the /Eneid* 
 
 Dyonea, nycht hyrd, and wach of day, 
 The starnis chasit of tlie hevin away, 
 Dame Cynthea dovn rolling in the see, 
 And Venus lost the bewte of hir e, 
 Fleand eschamyt within Cylenyus cave. 
 Mars onbydrew' for all his grundin glave^ 
 Nor frawart^ Saturn, from his mortall speyr. 
 Durst langar in the firmament appeir, 
 Bot stall abak yond in his rcgioun 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 evir^ hous 
 In crammysins cled and granit violat. 
 With sanguyne cape and selvage purpurat^ 
 Onschot the windois of hyr large hall, 
 Spred all wyth rosys and full of balm ryall. 
 And eik the hevinly portis crystallync 
 
 * 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 jirosc paraphrase of the prologue in his History oj 
 English Poetry. 
 
 • withdrew. 
 
 2 sharpened 
 sword. 
 
 3 untoward. 
 
 t, ivory. 
 
 5 cramoisie, crim- 
 son cloth. 
 
 * purple edge. 
 
2S6 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 I Opened up 
 wide. 
 
 * sprays, streaks, 
 
 3 mingled. 
 
 4 rampart. 
 
 5 screen wall. 
 
 5 sorrel, reddish. 
 
 7 nostrils. 
 
 8 Till. 
 
 9 Habited. 
 
 10 flaming. 
 
 " Pouring out. 
 12 seat. 
 
 •3 heavenly. 
 
 14 incense. 
 
 »5 clouds. 
 i6 wet. 
 
 17 Moist whole- 
 
 some vapours 
 covering the 
 valley. 
 
 18 The golden 
 
 19 glance. 
 
 Vpwarpis braid', the warld to illumyn. 
 
 The twinkling stremowris of the orient 
 
 Sched purpour sprangis"^ with gold and asure ment^, 
 
 Persand the sabill barmkyn^ nocturnall, 
 
 Bet doun the skyis clowdy mantill wall 5. 
 
 Eous the steid with ruby hamis reid 
 
 Abuf the seyis lyftis furth his heid 
 
 Of cullour soyr*, and sum-deill brovn as berry, 
 
 For to alichtyn and glaid our emyspery, 
 
 The flambe owtbrastyng at his neys-thyrlys^ 
 
 Sa fast Phaeton wyth the quhip him quhirlys 
 
 To roll Apollo his faderis goldin chair 
 
 That schrowdyth all the hevynnis and the ayr, 
 
 QuhilP schortly, with the blesand torch of day, 
 
 Abilyeit' in his lemand'° 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, 
 
 Defundand" from hys sege'- etheriall 
 
 Glaid influent aspectis celicall'^ 
 
 Before his regale hie magnificens 
 
 Mysty vapour vpspringand, sweit as sens'*, 
 
 In smoky soppis'^ of donk dewis wak"^ 
 
 Moich hailsum stovis ourheildand the slak'". 
 
 The aureat fanys'^ of hys trone souerane 
 
 With glytrand glans ourspred the occiane. 
 
 The large fludis lemand all of lycht 
 
 Bot with a blenk'' of his supernale sycht. 
 
MORNING IN MA Y. 
 
 257 
 
 For to behald, it was a gloir to se 
 
 The stabillit' wyndis and the cawmyt see', 
 
 The soft sessoun, the firmament serene, 
 
 The lowne^ illumynat air, the fyrth amene, 
 
 The syluer-scaht fyschis on the greit-* 
 
 Ourthwort^ cleir stremis sprynkland* for the he)i:, 
 
 Wyth fynnis schynand brovn as synopar", 
 
 And chyssell taUs, stowrand^ heyr and thar. 
 
 The new cullour alychtnyng all the landis, 
 
 Forgane thir stannyris' schane the beryall strandis, 
 
 Quhill the reflex of the diurnal bemis 
 
 The bene bonkis'° kest ful of variant glemis, 
 
 And lusty Flora did hir blomis spreid 
 
 Vnder the feit of Phebus sulyart" steid. 
 
 The swardit soyll enbrovd with selcouth'^ hewis 
 
 Wod and forest obumbrat'^ with thar bewis, 
 
 Quhois blissfuU branchis, porturat on the grund, 
 
 With schaddois schene schew rochis rubycund. 
 
 Towris, turattis, kyrnellis"^ pynnaclis hie 
 
 Of kirkis, castellis, and ilke'^ fair cite, 
 
 Stude payntit, euery fyall, fane, and stage'*, 
 
 Apon the plane grund by thar awin vmbrage. 
 
 Of Eolus north blastis havand no dreyd, 
 
 The sulye'^ spred hyr braid bosum on breid, 
 
 Zephyrus' confortabill inspiratioun 
 
 For till ressaue law in hyr barm'^ adoun. 
 
 The cornis croppis" and the beris new brerd'" 
 
 Wyth glaidsum garmond revesting the erd. 
 
 So thik the plantis sprang in euery pece 
 
 The feyldis ferleis=' of thar fructuus flece. 
 
 Byssy dame Ceres and provd Pryapus, 
 
 > stilled. 
 
 2 calmed sea. 
 
 3 still. 
 
 4 sand. 
 
 5 Athwart. 
 •J darting. 
 
 7 cinnabar. 
 
 8 storming. 
 
 9 Opposite this 
 gravel. 
 
 "o The pleasant 
 banks. 
 
 '" glittering. 
 «= strange. 
 '3 shadowed. 
 
 M battlements. 
 
 >3 each. 
 
 «6 tower, vane, 
 and storey. 
 
 «7 soil. 
 
 18 bosom. 
 
 <9 tops, 
 ao leaf. 
 
 »« marvel. 
 
258 
 
 GA VIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 I Furnished. 
 
 2 Stretching 
 
 broad. 
 
 3 pleasant. 
 
 4 turfy furrow. 
 
 5 sward. 
 
 6 leaves. 
 
 7 dispersed. 
 
 8 Restoring. 
 
 9 grasses. 
 
 »o rampart. 
 " buds. 
 la locked. 
 
 13 sky-coloured. 
 
 14 dark brown 
 
 (brunette). 
 
 15 grey. 
 
 16 rose-red. 
 
 •7 reddish. 
 18 degree. 
 
 •9 deep wavy sea 
 
 20 divided. 
 
 Reiosyng of the planis plenteus, 
 
 Plenyst' sa plesand and maist propirly 
 
 By nature nurist wondir nobilly. 
 
 On the fertill skyrt lappis of the ground, 
 
 Streking on breid^ ondyr the cirkill rovnd, 
 
 The variant vestur of the venust^ vaill 
 
 Schrowdis the scherald fur*, and euery faill^ 
 
 Ourfret with fulyeis^ of figuris full diuers 
 
 The spray bysprent with spryngand sproutis dispers'. 
 
 For callour humour on the dewy nycht, 
 
 Rendryng^ sum place the gers' pilis that hycht 
 
 Als far as catal, the lang symmeris day. 
 
 Had in thar pastur eyt and knyp away; 
 
 And bUsfull blossummis in the blomyt yard 
 
 Submittis thar hedis in the yong sonnis salfgard. 
 
 Ive levis rank ourspred the barmkin'° wall, 
 
 The blomyt hawthorn cled his pikis all. 
 
 Furth of fresch burgionis" the wyne-grapis ying 
 
 Endlang the treilyeis dyd on twystis hing. 
 
 The lowkyt" 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 pers'3, sum paill, sum burnet'", and sum blew, 
 
 Sum grece'^ sum gowlis'^, sum purpour, sum sangwane, 
 
 Blanchit or brovne, fawch'^ yallow mony ane, 
 
 Sum hevynly cuUorit in celestiall gre'^ 
 
 Sum wattry hewit as the haw wally see'', 
 
 And sum depart =" in freklys red and quhyte, 
 
 Sum brycht as gold with aureat levis lyte, 
 
MORNING IN MAY, 
 
 259 
 
 The dasy dyd on breid hir crownelP smaill, 
 And euery flour onlappit* in the daill, 
 In battill gyrs burgionys the ban wart ^ wyld, 
 The clavyr, catcluke, and the cammamyld ; 
 The flour-de-Hce furth spred his hevinly hew, 
 Flour dammes", and columby blank and blew; 
 Seyr^ downis smaill on dent-de-lion sprang, 
 The ying grene blomyt straberry levis amang. 
 Gymp gerraflouris^ thar royn" levys vnschet, 
 Fresche prymros, and the purpour violet. 
 The roys knoppis, tetand^ furth thar heyd, 
 Gan chyp, and kyth' thar Vermel lippis red ; 
 Crysp scarlet levis sum scheddand, baith attanis 
 Kest fragrant smell amyd from goldin granis. 
 Hevinly lylleis, with lokerand'° toppis quhyte, 
 Oppynnit and schew thar creistis redymyte", 
 The balmy vapour from thar sylkyn croppis 
 Distylland hailsum sugurat hunny droppis; 
 And syluer schakaris" gan fra levis hyng 
 Wyth crystal sprayngis'^ on the verdour ying: 
 The plane pulderyt'* with semely settis's sovnd, 
 Bedyit'^, full of dewy peirlis rovnd, 
 So that ilk burgioun, syon'^ herb, and flour 
 Wolx all enbalmyt of the fresch liquour, 
 And bathit hait did in dulce humouris fleit'^, 
 Quharof the beis wrocht thar hunny sweit, 
 By michty Phebus opcratiounis 
 In sappy subtell exalatiounis. 
 Forgane'' the cummyn of this prince potent 
 Redolent odour vp from rutis sprent^ 
 Hailsum of smell as ony spicer>', 
 
 > spread abroad 
 her coronet. 
 
 3 unfolded. 
 
 3 In rank gra><.<; 
 buds the bane- 
 wort. 
 
 4 damask rose. 
 
 5 Many. 
 
 6 Dainty gilly- 
 
 flowers. 
 
 7 vermilion. 
 
 8 rose-knobs 
 
 peepins:. 
 
 9 show. 
 
 '0 curling. 
 '» ornate. 
 
 " thin hanging 
 plates. 
 
 •3 spra>-s. 
 
 >4 powdered. 
 >S shoots. 
 «6 dipped in 
 water. 
 
 »7 each bud, 
 shoot. 
 
 i8 float. 
 
 '9 Against. 
 »o sprang. 
 
26o 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 » soap(?) 
 
 (/>. savon). 
 
 2 pomade (for- 
 merly made 
 from apples 
 and lemons). 
 
 3 These cheerful. 
 
 4 each green 
 
 arbour. 
 
 5 rustle. 
 
 6 bulrushes.. 
 
 7 Over all these 
 
 lakes. 
 
 S Seeking by 
 
 nature. 
 
 9 stir. 
 
 10 stretching. 
 
 11 the plants and 
 
 the delicate 
 roots. 
 
 12 Pecking. 
 
 13 practises. 
 
 14 peacock. 
 
 15 neat. 
 
 16 Dressed in 
 
 his feather 
 covering. 
 
 17 Portraying. 
 
 18 brushwood. 
 
 19 branches. 
 
 20 Many. 
 
 21 oaks. 
 
 22 mates. 
 
 23 windows. 
 
 24 midge. 
 
 25 upstirs. 
 
 26 Till the crow. 
 
 Tryakle, droggis, or electuary, 
 
 Seroppis, sewane', sugour, and synamome, 
 
 Precyus invnctment, salve, or fragrant pome', 
 
 Aromatik gummis, or ony fyne potioun, 
 
 Must, myr, aloes, or confectioun ; 
 
 Ane paradice it semyt to draw neyr 
 
 Thyr galyart^ gardyngis and ilke greyn herbere^. 
 
 Maist amyabill walxis the amerant medis. 
 
 Svvannys swouchis^ throw-out the rysp^ and redis, 
 
 Our al thir lowys' and the fludis gray 
 
 Seyrsand by kynd^ a place quhar thai suld lay. 
 
 Phebus red fowle hys corall creist can steyr', 
 
 Oft streking" furth hys hekkyll, crawand cleir, 
 
 Amyd the wortis and the rutis gent" 
 
 Pykland'' his meyt in alleis quhar he went, 
 
 Hys wifis, Toppa and Pertelok, hym by. 
 
 As byrd al tyme that hantis'^ bygamy. 
 
 The payntit povne'^ pasand with plomys gym '5, 
 
 Kest vp his taill, a provd plesand quheil rym, 
 
 Yschrowdryt in hys fedramme'*^ brycht and schene, 
 
 Schapand'^ the prent of Argus' hundreth ene. 
 
 Amang the brounis'® of the olyve twestis'^ 
 
 Seyr'° small fowlis wirkand crafty nestis 
 
 Endlang the hedgeis thyk and on rank akis", 
 
 Ilk byrd reiosyng with thar myrthfuU makis''^ 
 
 In corneris and cleir fenystaris-^ of glas 
 
 Full byssely Aragne wevand was, 
 
 To knit hyr nettis and hir wobbys sle, 
 
 Tharwith to caucht the myghe'* and littill fle. 
 
 So dusty puldyr vpstowris*^ in euery streyt, 
 
 Quhill corby"^ gaspyt for the fervent heyt. 
 
MORNING IN MA Y. 
 
 261 
 
 Vnder the bewys beyn' in lusty valis, 
 Within fermans= and parkis cloys of palys, 
 The bustuus bukkis rakis' furth on raw; 
 Heyrdis of hertis throw the the thyk wod schaw, 
 Baith the brokettis*, and with brayd burnyst tyndis 
 The sprutlyt^ calvys sowkand the reid hyndis, 
 The yong fownis followand the dun dayis, 
 Kyddis skippand throw ronnis* eftir rayis. 
 In lyssouris' and on leys littill lammis 
 Full tait and trig socht' bletand to thar dammis. 
 Tydy ky lowys', 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 clepe" wenchis and damysellis, 
 In gresy gravis" 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 rovndis", 
 Wyth vocis schill'^, quhiU 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 lemman hame 
 Sum other singis, " I wil be blyth and lycht, 
 Myne hart is lent apon sa gudly wycht!" 
 And thochtfull luffaris rowmys to and fro, 
 To leis-* thar pane and plene'^ thar joly wo 
 Eftyr thar gys"^ now singand, now in sorow. 
 With hartis pensyve, the lang symmcris morow. 
 Sum ballettis lyst endytc of his lady, 
 
 I pleasant 
 Ixjughs. 
 
 = enclosures. 
 
 3 bold bucks 
 range. 
 
 • 4 t»o-year-olds. 
 
 5 speckled. 
 
 6 brushwood. 
 
 7 pastures. 
 
 8 tight and neat, 
 made their way. 
 
 9 kine low. 
 
 JO Such as we 
 name. 
 
 II In grassy 
 groves. 
 
 13 round (dances). 
 •3 clear. 
 
 14 lose. 
 
 15 pour forth. 
 
 >6 After their 
 guUe. 
 
262 
 
 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 I entirely. 
 
 2 flatter and 
 
 feign. 
 ? practise. 
 
 4 unlawful 
 
 means. 
 
 5 whispers. 
 
 6 stolen pleasure 
 
 and pastime. 
 
 7 jest. 
 
 8 whit. 
 
 9 such. 
 
 10 latter. 
 
 " laughed. 
 
 12 tickles. 
 
 13 Seeing by 
 
 nature. 
 
 14 melody. 
 
 15 direction. 
 
 i6 amend, abate. 
 17 sorrow. 
 
 i8 burst. 
 
 Sum levis in hoip, and sum aluterly' 
 
 Disparyt is, and sa quyte owt of grace ; 
 
 His purgatory he fyndis in euery place. 
 
 To pleis his luife sum thocht to flat and fene", 
 
 Sum to hant^ bawdry and onlesum mene''; 
 
 Sum rownys^ to hys fallow, thame betwene, 
 
 Hys mery stouth and pastans^ lait yistrene. 
 
 Smyland sayis ane, " I couth in previte 
 
 Schaw the a bowrd^" "Ha, quhat be that?" quod he. 
 
 " Quhat thing ? — That moste be secret," sayd the 
 
 tother. 
 " Gude Lord! mysbeleif ye your verray brother?" 
 " Na, neuyr a deill^, bot harkis quhat I wald ; 
 Thou mon be prevy." " Lo, my hand vphald!" 
 " Than sal thou walk at evin." Quod he, "Quhiddyr?" 
 "In sik' a place heyr west, we bayth togiddyr, 
 Quhar scho so freschly sang this hyndir'° nycht ; 
 Do chois the ane and I sal quynch the lycht." 
 "I sal be thar, I hope," quod he, and lewch"; 
 " Ya, now I knaw the mater weill enewch." 
 Thus oft dywulgat is this schamefuU play, 
 Na-thing according to our hailsum May, 
 Bot rathyr contagius and infective, 
 And repugnant that sessoun nutrytive 
 Quhen new curage kytlis" all gentill hartis, 
 Seand throu kynd'^ ilk thyng springis and revertis. 
 Dame Naturis menstralis, on that other part, 
 Thayr blyssfuU bay'* entonyng euery art '5, 
 To beyt'^ thar amouris of thar nychtis baill'^ 
 The merll, the mavys, and the nychtingale 
 With mery notis myrthfully furth brest'°. 
 
MORNING IN MA Y. 
 
 263 
 
 Enforsing thame quha mycht do clynk ii best. 
 The cowschet crowdis and pirkis on the rys'j 
 The styrlyng changis diuers stevynnys nys'3 
 The sparrow chyrmis in the wallis clyft; 
 Goldspynk and lyntquhyte fordynnand the lyft^; 
 The gukgo gaHs'', and so quytteris^ the quaill, 
 Quhill ryveris rerdyt^ schawls and euery vaill, 
 And tender twystis^ trymlyt on the treis 
 For byrdis sang and bemyng of the beis ; 
 In wrablis dulce" of hevynly armonyis 
 The larkis, lowd releschand' in the skyis, 
 Lovys thar lege" with tonys curyus 
 Baith to Dame Natur and the fresch Venus, 
 Rendryng 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 vane"! 
 Welcum, confort of alkynd fruyt and grane ! 
 Welcum, the byrdis beyld" apon the breyr! 
 Welcum, maister and rewlar of the yeyr! 
 Welcum, weilfar of husbandis at the plewis ! 
 Welcum, reparar of woddis, treis, and bewis'^; 
 Welcum, depayntar of the blomyt medis ! 
 Welcum, the lyfe of euery thing that spredis ! 
 Welcum, stourour'* of alkynd bestiall ! 
 Welcum be thi brycht bemys, glading all ! 
 Welcum celestiall myrrour and aspy, 
 Atteching'^ all that hantis"^ sluggardy!" 
 
 » The ring-dove 
 coos and perches, 
 on the twigs. 
 
 3 delicate sounds. 
 
 3 make the 
 heaven resound. 
 
 4 calls. 
 
 5 twitters. 
 
 6 made mur- 
 
 murous. 
 
 7 twigs. 
 
 8 warbles sweet. 
 
 9 letting go (their 
 
 song). 
 
 •0 Praise their 
 liege. 
 
 »' fibre. 
 
 «= shelter. 
 
 '3 bouglts. 
 
 «4 bestirrer, ruler. 
 
 IS RepiovinB. 
 ■<> practiiie. 
 
264 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 And with this word, in chahner quhair I lay, 
 The nynt morow of fresche, temperat May, 
 = sh[r"^' On fut I sprent' into my bayr sark'-', 
 
 3 tedious. Wilfull for till compleyt my langsum^ 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 kyng" 
 
 That was sa welcum tyll all warldly thyng, 
 With sic tryumphe and pompos curage glayd, 
 
 5 mansions. Than of his souerane chymmis^ as is sayd, 
 
 Newly arissyn in hys estayt ryall, 
 
 6 without clock. That, by hys hew, but orleger^ or dyall, 
 
 I knew it was past four houris of day. 
 And thocht I wald na langar ly in May 
 
 7 sluggard. Lcs Phcbus suld me losanger'' attaynt. 
 
 Sere then. Yox Progne had or than® sung hyr complaynt. 
 And eik hir dreidful systir Philomene 
 Hir lais endit, and in woddis grene 
 
 ^ ^olfairfp. s8. Hyd hir-selvin, eschamyt of hyr chance^; 
 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. Behaldis how I beinge'° and do reuerens." 
 
 Hir nek scho wrinklis, trasing mony fold. 
 With plomis glitterand, asur apon gold, 
 Rendring a cullour betwix grene and blew 
 In purpour glans of hevinly variant hew. 
 I meyn our awin native bird, gentill dow, 
 
MORNING IN MAY. 265 
 
 Syngand in hyr kynd " I come bidder to wow," 
 
 So pryklyng hyr grene curage for to crowd ' ■ 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, 
 
 And, for it was ayr morow, or tyme of mes", = early mom, ere 
 
 ' J T J > time of ma^. 
 
 I hynt a scriptour^ and my pen furth tuike. ^"Jftf^^*"' 
 
 Syne thus begouth of Virgill the twelt buike. 
 
 case. 
 
EVENING AND MORNING IN 
 JUNE. 
 
 From " The Proloug of the Threttene Bulk of Eneados ekit to 
 Virgin be Mapheus Vegitts." 
 
 TowART the evin, amyd the summyris heyt, 
 Quhen in the Crab Appollo held his sete, 
 Duryng the joyous moneth tyme of June, 
 As gone neir was the day, and suppar done, 
 I quickly. I walkit furth abowt the feildis tyte' 
 
 3 Which then. Quhilkis tho' replenist stude full of delyte, 
 AVith herbis, cornis, catale, and frute treis, 
 3 store. Plente of stoyr^, byrdis and byssy beis 
 
 < green. In amcranf medis fleand est and west, 
 
 Eftir laubour to tak the nychtis rest. 
 ^ ^he"aven?" ""^ And as I blynkyt on the lifts me by, 
 6 became. All byrnand reid gan walxin^ the evin sky; 
 
 7 all, whole. The son, enfyrit hailP as to my sycht, 
 
 Quhirlit about his ball with bemis brycht, 
 Declynand fast towart the north in deyd ; 
 And fyry Phlegon, his dym nychtis steid, 
 • dipped, Dowkyt^ his heid sa deip in fludis gray 
 
 plunged. ■' ^ J 
 
 That Phebus roUis doun vnder hell away. 
 And Esperus in the west wyth bemis brycht 
 Vpspringis, as for-ridar of the nycht. 
 9 meadows. Amyd the hawchis' and euery lusty vaill 
 
EVENING AND MORNING IN JUNE. 267 
 
 The recent dew begynnis doun to scaill', 
 
 To meys' the byrnyng quhar the son had schine, 
 
 Quhilk tho was to the neddir warld decline. 
 
 At euery pihs^ point and cornis croppis* 
 
 The techrj's stude as lemand beriall droppis^ 
 
 And on the hailsum herbis dene, but wedis*, 
 
 Lyke crystall knoppis^ or small siluer bedis. 
 
 « scatter. 
 
 allay. 
 
 3 hair's. 
 
 4 tips. 
 
 5 The dew stood 
 
 like burning 
 berj'l drops. 
 
 6 free from weeds. 
 
 7 knobs. 
 
 The lycht begouth to quynkill out and faill, 
 
 The day to dyrkyn^, decline, and devaill'; 
 
 The gummis'" rysis, doun fallis the donk rym", 
 
 Baith heyr and thair scuggis" and schaddois dyni. 
 
 Vpgois the bak'^ wyth hir pelit''' ledder)-n flycht ; 
 
 The lark discendis from the skyis hycht, 
 
 Singand hyr compling sang'^ eftyr hyr gys'^, 
 
 To tak hyr rest, at matyn hour to rys. 
 
 Owt our the swyre'' swymmis the soppis'^ of mist, 
 
 The nycht furthspred hyr cloke with sabill lyst", 
 
 That all the bewtie of the fructuus feyld 
 
 Was wyth the erthis vmbrage clene ourheild"^ 
 
 Bath man and beste, fyrth"', flude, and woddis wild 
 
 Involuit in the schaddois warrin sild"*. 
 
 Still war the fowlis fleis'^ in the ayr, 
 
 All stoyr""* and catall seysit-^ in thair lair. 
 
 And euery thing, quharso thame likis best, 
 
 Bownis^* to tak the hailsum nychtis rest 
 
 Eftir the day's laubour and the heyt. 
 
 Closs warrin all and at thar soft quyet, 
 
 But sterage^' or removing, he or sche, 
 
 Ouder^^ best, byrd, fysch, fowle, by land or se ; 
 
 And schortlie euery thing that dois repare 
 
 8 darken. 
 
 9 descend. 
 
 >o mists. 
 
 «> dank rime. 
 
 1= clouds. 
 »3 bat. 
 u naked. 
 
 «5 even-song. 
 16 guise. 
 
 ■7 gorge. 
 
 18 clouds. 
 
 19 edge. 
 
 so covered over. 
 
 ^i pasture-land. 
 
 s2 were hidden. 
 
 =3 Silent were the 
 birds' flights. 
 
 -4 store. 
 =5 secured. 
 
 a* Makes ready. 
 
 -1 Without stir. 
 =8 Litiier. 
 
268 GAVIN DOUGLAS. 
 
 In firth or feyld, flude, forest, erth, or ayr, 
 I stunted shrubs. Or in the scroggis' or the buskis ronk, 
 
 Lakis, marrasis, or thir pulis donk, 
 3 lies. Astabillit Hggis" still to slepe, and restis; 
 
 Be the small birdis syttand on thar nestis ; 
 
 3 restless. The litiU midgeis, and the vrusum^ fleyis, 
 
 4 ants. Laboryus emmotis"', and the byssy beyis, 
 
 Als Weill the wild as the taym bestiall, 
 And euery othir thingis gret and small, 
 s except. Owtak^ the mery nychtgaill, Philomene, 
 
 6 from the heart, ^hat On the thom sat syngand fra the splene*. 
 
 Quhais myrthfuU notis langing for to heyr, 
 
 7 laurel. Ontill a garth vndir a greyn lawrer^ 
 
 8 seat. I walk onon and in a sege* down sat. 
 
 Now musand apon this and now on that. 
 I se the poill and eik the Ursis brycht. 
 And hornyt Lucyne, castand bot dym lycht 
 Becaus the symmyr skyis schayn sa cleyr : 
 Goldin 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 Vegius, 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, 
 
 9 glanced. And blent' abowt to the north-est weill far, 
 
 Saw gentill Jubar schynand, the day star, 
 
EVENING AND MORNING IN JUNE. 269 
 
 And Chiron, clepit the sing' of Sagittary, > called the sign. 
 
 That walkis the symmirris nycht, to bed gan cary. 
 
 Yondyr dovn dwynis^ the evin sky away, "wanes, declines. 
 
 And vpsprj'ngis 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 bot Lucifer allone. 
 
 And forthirmore, to blason this new day, 
 
 Quha mycht discrive^ the byrdis blyssfull bay"*? 
 
 Belyve^ on weyng the bissy lark vpsprang 
 
 To salus^ 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 greif' 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 clepis^ vp Katheryn and Gill; s calls. 
 
 " Ya, dame," sayd thai, God waif, wyth a gude will. 9 God knows. 
 
 The dewy grene, pulderit" with daseis gay, 10 powdered. 
 
 Schew on the sward a cullour dapill gray; 
 
 The mysty vapouris springand vp full sweit, 
 
 Maist confortabill to glaid all mannis spreit ; 
 
 Tharto, thir byrdis singis in the schawls", "covens. 
 
 As menstralis playng, "The joly day now dawis!" 
 
 3 describe. 
 
 4 melody. 
 
 5 Immediately. 
 
 6 salute. 
 
 T Quickly on his 
 hinds gave the 
 steward. 
 
 William Hodge b' Co., Printers, Glasgow. 
 
ABBOTSFORD SERIES OF THE 
 SCOTTISH POETS. 
 
 Edited by GEORGE EYRE-TODD. 
 
 Bound in cloth, crown Svo., y. 6d. each volume. 
 
 A limited number of copies printed on large antique paper, 
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 This series is intended to reproduce in popular form the best 
 Works of the Scottish Poets, from the earliest times onwards ; 
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 a comprehensive library of the Poetry of Scotland. 
 
 No liberties whatever are taken with the texts, which are 
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 The first two volumes of the series are now ready : — 
 
 EARLY SCOTTISH POETRY: Thomas the Rhymer, John 
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 MEDIAEVAL SCOTTISH POETRY: James I. of Scotland, 
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 The following volumes are in preparation : — 
 
 SCOTTISH POETRY OF THE SIXTEENTH 
 CENTURY : Sir David Lyndsay, John Bellenden, Sir 
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 SCOTTISH BALLAD POETRY: The best historical, 
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EARLY SCOTTISH POETRY. 
 
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 John Barbour, Androw 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. E>Te-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 poetrj- that 
 an attempt is made in so praiseworthy a form as this to attract a wider circle 
 of readers to their study. . . . Everj'one who has the best interests of 
 literature at heart will wish them success. — Scotsman. 
 
 A most praiseworthy enterprise. — Glasgoiv Evening Times. 
 
 The selections are well chosen, and the connecting matter is succinct. 
 . . . Mr. Eyre-Todd has done his work with integrity.— Z./V^r^o' Opinion. 
 
 This first 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. — Dutnbarton 
 Herald. 
 
 The selections have been made with discrimination. — National Observer. 
 
 The selections are excellent. — Booktnan. 
 
 Mr. Eyre-Todd's work is thoroughly well done. — Dundee Advertiser. 
 
 GLASGOW: WILLIAM HODGE & CO. 
 
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DISCHARffl-lfet 
 
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