Then flew thir birdis o'er the boughis sheen,
Singing of love amang the leavis small;
Whose eidant plead yet made my thoughtis grein,1
Both sleeping, waking, in rest and in travail :
Me to recomfort most it does avail,
Again for love, when love I can find none,

To think how sung this Merle and Nightingale ;
All love is lost but upon God alone.

The Dance.*

Of Februar the fifteenth nicht,
Full lang before the dayis licht,

I lay intill a trance;

And then I saw baith heaven and hell: Methocht amangs the fiendis fell,

Mahoun gart cry ane Dance Of shrewis that were never shriven,3 Agains the fast of Fastern's Even,4 To mak their observance

He bade gallands gae graith a guise,5 And cast up gamonds in the skies, As varlots does in France.

Heillie 7 harlots, haughten-wise, 8
Came in with mony sundry guise,

But yet leuch never Mahoun;

While preests came in with bare shaven necks, Then all the fiends leuch and made gecks, Black-belly and Bausy-broun.9

Let see, quoth he, who now begins.
With that the foul Seven Deadly Sins
Begoud to leap at anes.

And first in all the Dance was PRIDE,
With hair wiled back, and bonnet on side,
Like to mak vaistie wanes ;10
And round about him, as a wheel,
Hang all in rumples to the heel

His kethat12 for the nanes.13

Mony proud trumpour with him trippit ;
Through scaldand fire aye as they skippit,
They grinned with hideous granes.

Then IRE came in with sturt and strife;
His hand was aye upon his knife,

He brandished like a bear;
Boasters, braggarts, and bargainers,
After him, passit in to pairs,

All boden in 'feir of weir,14

In jacks, and scrips, and bonnets of steel;
Their legs were chained down to the heel;
Froward was their effeir:

Some upon other with brands beft,15
Some jaggit others, to the heft,

With knives that sharp could shear.

1 Whose close disputation yet moved my thoughts. The Devil. 3 Accursed men, who had never been absolved in the other world. 4 The eve of Lent.

5 Prepare a masque. 8 Haughtily.

6 Gambols. 7 Proud. The names of popular spirits in Scotland. 10 Something touching puffed up manners appears to be hinted at in this obscure line. 11 Large folds.

12 Robe. 13 For the occasion. 14 Arrayed in the accoutrements of war. 15 Gave blows. *Dunbar is a poet of a high order. * * His Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins, though it would be absurd to compare it with the beauty and refinement of the celebrated Ode on the Passions, has yet an animated picturesqueness not unlike that of Collins. The effect of both pieces shows how much more potent allegorical figures become, by being made to fleet suddenly before the imagination, than by being detained in its view by prolonged description. Dunbar conjures up the personified sins, as Collins does the passions, to rise, to strike, to disappear. They come like shadows, so depart."'-CAMP

BELL.

Next in the Dance followed Envy,
Filled full of feid and felony,

Hid malice and despite :

For privy hatred that traitor trembled ;
Him followed mony freik dissembled,
With feigned wordis white:

And flatterers into men's faces;
And backbiters in secret places,
To lee that had delight;
And rouners of fals lesings,
Alas! that courts of noble kings,
Of them can never be quit.

Next him in Dance came COVETICE,
Root of all evil and grund of vice,

That never could be content:
Caitiffs, wretches, and ockerars,2
Hood-pykes,3 hoarders, and gatherers,
All with that warlock went :
Out of their throats they shot on other
Het molten gold, methought, a fother,
As fire-flaught maist fervent ;
Ay as they toomit them of shot,
Fiends filled them new up to the throat
With gold of all kind prent.5
Syne SWEIRNESS,6 at the second bidding,
Came like a sow out of a midden,

Full sleepy was his grunyie ;7 Mony sweir bumbard belly-huddron, Mony slute daw, and sleepy duddron, Him servit ay with sunyie.10 He drew them furth intill a chenyie, And Belial with a bridle reinyie

Ever lashed them on the lunyie :11 In dance they were sae slaw of feet, They gave them in the fire a heat,

And made them quicker of counyie.12

Then the foul monster GLUTTONY,
Of wame insatiable and greedy,
To dance he did him dress:
Him followed mony foul drunkart,
With can and collop, caup and quart,
In surfeit and excess ;

Some gives for thank, and some for threat;
Some gives money, and some gives meat;
Some givis wordis fair and slie ;
And gifts fra some may na man treit:
In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some is for gift sae lang required,
While that the craver be so tired,

That ere the gift delivered be,
The thank is frustrate and expired:
In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some gives so little full wretchedly,
That all his gifts are not set by,1

And for a hood-pick halden is he,
That all the warld cries on him, Fye!
In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some in his giving is so large,
That all o'er-laden is his barge;

Then vice and prodigalitie.
There of his honour does discharge:
In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some to the rich gives his gear,
That might his giftis weel forbear;

And, though the poor for fault? sould die,
His cry not enters in his ear:

In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some gives to strangers with faces new,
That yesterday fra Flanders flew ;3

And to auld servants list not see,
Were they never of sae great virtue:
In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some gives to them can ask and pleinyie,4
Some gives to them can flatter and feignie;
Some gives to men of honestie,
And halds all janglers at disdenyie:
In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some gettis gifts and rich arrays,
To swear all that his master says,

Though all the contrair weel knaws he;
Are mony sic now in thir days:

In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some gives to gude men for their thews;
Some gives to trumpours and to shrews;
Some gives to knaw his authoritie,
But in their office gude fund in few is:
In Giving sould Discretion be.
Some givis parochines full wide,
Kirks of St Bernard and St Bride,
The people to teach and to o'ersee,
Though he nae wit has them to guide:
In Giving sould Discretion be.
Of Discretion in Taking.
After Giving I speak of Taking,
But little of ony gude forsaking;

Some takes o'er little authoritie,
And some o'er mickle, and that is glaiking:5
In Taking sould Discretion be.
The clerks takes benefices with brawls,
Some of St Peter and some of St Paul's;
Tak he the rents, no care has he,
Suppose the devil tak all their sauls:
In Taking sould Discretion be.

Barons taks fra the tenants puir
All fruit that growis on the fur,

In mails and gersoms raisit o'er hie;
And gars them beg fra door to door :
In Taking sould Discretion be.

1

Some merchands taks unleesomel wine,
Whilk maks their packs oft time full thin,
By their succession, as ye may see,
That ill-won gear 'riches not the kin:

In Taking sould Discretion be.

Some taks other mennis tacks,2
And on the puir oppression maks,

And never remeinbers that he maun die, Till that the gallows gars him rax :3

In Taking sould Discretion be.

Some taks by sea, and some by land,
And never fra taking can hald their hand,
Till he be tyit up to ane tree;
And syne they gar him understand,

In Taking sould Discretion be.
Some wald tak all his neighbour's gear;
Had he of man as little fear

As he has dread that God him see; To tak then sould he never forbear:

In Taking sould Discretion be. Some wald tak all this warld on breid ;4 And yet not satisfied of their need,

Through heart unsatiable and greedie;
Some wald tak little, and can not speed:
In Taking sould Discretion be.

Great men for taking and oppression,
Are set full famous at the Session,5

And puir takers are hangit hie,
Shawit for ever, and their succession:

In Taking sould Discretion be.

GAVIN DOUGLAS.

GAVIN DOUGLAS, born about the year 1474, a younger son of Archibald, fifth Earl of Angus, was

pying a prominent place in the history of his country, he died of the plague in London in the year 1522. Douglas shines as an allegorical and descriptive poet. He wants the vigorous sense, and also the graphic force, of Dunbar; while the latter is always close and nervous, Douglas is soft and verbose. The genius of Dunbar is so powerful, that manner sinks beneath it; that of Douglas is so much matter of culture, that manner is its most striking peculiarity. This manner is essentially scholarly. He employs an immense number of words derived from the Latin, as yet comparatively a novelty in English composition. And even his descriptions of nature involve many ideas, very beautiful in themselves, and very beautifully expressed, but inappropriate to the situation, and obviously introduced merely in accordance with literary fashion.

The principal original composition of Douglas is a long poem, entitled The Palace of Honour. It was designed as an apologue for the conduct of a king. and therefore addressed to James IV. The poet represents himself as seeing, in a vision, a large company travelling towards the Palace of Honour. He joins them, and narrates the particulars of the pilgrimage. The well-known Pilgrim's Progress bears so strong a resemblance to this poem, that Bunyan could scarcely have been ignorant of it. King Hart, the only other long poem of Douglas, presents a metaphorical view of human life. the most remarkable production of this author was a translation of Virgil's Eneid into Scottish verse, which he executed in the year 1513, being the first version of a Latin classic into any British tongue. It is generally allowed to be a masterly performance, though in too obsolete a language ever to regain its popularity. The original poems, styled prologues, which the translator affixes to each book, are esteemed amongst his happiest pieces.

But

1

FOETS.

*

*

Furth of his palace royal ishit Phoebus,
With golden crown and visage glorious,
Crisp hairs, bricht as chrysolite or topaz;
For whase hue micht nane behald his face.
The auriate vanes of his throne soverane
With glitterand glance o'erspread the oceane;1
The large fludes, lemand all of licht,
But with ane blink of his supernal sicht.
For to behald, it was ane glore to see
The stabled windis, and the calmed sea,
The soft season, the firmament serene,
The loune illuminate air and firth amene.
And lusty Flora did her bloomis spread
Under the feet of Phoebus' sulyart steed;
The swarded soil embrode with selcouth3 hues,
Wood and forest, obnumbrate with bews.4
Towers, turrets, kirnals,5 and pinnacles hie,
Of kirks, castles, and ilk fair citie,
Stude painted, every fane, phiol,6 and stage,7
Upon the plain ground by their awn umbrage.
Of Eolus' north blasts havand no dreid,
The soil spread her braid bosom on-breid;
The corn crops and the beir new-braird
With gladsome garment revesting the yerd.8
The prai3 besprent with springand sprouts dispers
For caller humours10 on the dewy nicht
Rendering some place the gerse-piles their licht;
As far as cattle the lang summer's day
Had in their pasture eat and nip away;
And blissful blossoms in the bloomed yerd,
Submits their heids to the young sun's safeguard.
Ivy leaves rank o'erspread the barmkin wall;
The bloomed hawthorn clad his pikis all;
Furth of fresh bourgeons the wine grapes ying12
Endland the trellis did on twistis hing;
The loukit buttons on the gemmed trees
O'erspreadand leaves of nature's tapestries;
Soft grassy verdure after balmy shouirs,
On curland stalkis smiland to their flouirs.
The daisy did on-breid her crownal small,
And every flouer unlappit in the dale.
Sere downis small on dentilion sprang,
The young green bloomed strawberry leaves amang;
Jimp jeryflouirs thereon leaves unshet,
Fresh primrose and the purpour violet;

*

Heavenly lillies, with lockerand toppis white, Opened and shew their crestis redemite.

Ane paradise it seemed to draw near

*

*

*

For amorous lays does all the rockis ring.
Ane sang,' The ship sails over the salt faem,
Will bring the merchants and my leman hame."5
Some other sings, I will be blythe and licht,
My heart lent upon so goodly wicht.'5
And thoughtful lovers rounis6 to and fro,
To leis7 their pain, and plein their jolly woe.
After their guise, now singand, now in sorrow,
With heartis pensive the lang summer's morrow.
Some ballads list indite of his lady;
Some livis in hope; and some all utterly
grace,
Despairit is, and sae quite out of
His purgatory he finds in every place.
Dame Nature's menstrals, on that other part,
Their blissful lay intoning every art,
And all small fowlis singis on the spray,
Welcome the lord of licht, and lampe of day,
Welcome fosterer of tender herbis green,
Welcome quickener of flourist flouirs sheen,
Welcome support of every rute and vein,
Welcome comfort of all kind fruit and grain,
Welcome the birdis beilds upon the brier,
Welcome master and ruler of the year,
Welcome weelfare of husbands at the plews,
Welcome repairer of woods, trees, and bews,
Welcome depainter of the bloomit meads,
Welcome the life of every thing that spreads
Welcome storer of all kind bestial,
Welcome be thy bricht beamis, gladdand all.

JOHN SKELTON.

*

.

JOHN SKELTON flourished as a poet in the earlier part of the reign of Henry VIII. He was rector of Dysse, in Norfolk, and chiefly wrote satires upon his own order, for which he was at one time compelled to fly from his charge. The pasquils of Skelton are copious and careless effusions of coarse humour, displaying a certain share of imagination, and much rancour; but he could also assume a more amiable and poetical manner, as in the following canzonet:To Mistress Margaret Hussey.

Merry Margaret,

As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon,

Or hawk of the tower;
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;

So joyously,
So maidenly,

So womanly,
Her demeaning,

1 Rises in clouds.

6 Songs then popular.

2 Walked.

3 Grassy groves.

6 Whisper. 7 Relieve.

4 Lays.

8 Shelter.

45

In everything,
Far, far passing
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write,
Of merry Margaret,
As midsimmer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower;
As patient and as still,
And as full of goodwill,
As fair Isiphil,
Coliander,
Sweet Pomander,
Good Cassander;
Stedfast of thought,

Well made, well wrought
Far may be sought,
Ere you can find
So courteous, so kind,
As merry Margaret,

This midsimmer flower,
Gentle as falcon,

Or hawk of the tower.

EARL OF SURREY.

Howard, Earl of Surrey.

king, and in early life became accomplished, not only in the learning of the time, but in all kinds of courtly

and chivalrous exercises. Having travelled into Italy, he became a devoted student of the poets of that country-Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, and Ariosto-and formed his own poetical style upon theirs. His poetry is chiefly amorous, and, notwithstanding his having been married in early life, much of it consists of the praises of a lady whom he names Geraldine, supposed to have been a daughter of the Earl of Kildare. Surrey was a gallant soldier as well as a poet, and conducted an important expedition, in 1542, for the devastation of the Scottish borders. Te finally fell under the displeasure of Henry VIII., and was beheaded on Tower Hill in 1547. The poetry of Surrey is remarkable for a flowing melody,

correctness of style, and purity of expression; he was the first to introduce the sonnet and blank verse into English poetry. The gentle and melancholy pathos of his style is well exemplified in the verses which he wrote during his captivity in Windsor Castle, when about to yield his life a sacrifice to tyrannical caprice :

Prisoner in Windsor, he recounteth his Pleasure there passed.

So cruel prison how could betide, alas!

As proud Windsor? where I, in lust and joy, With a king's son, my childish years did pass, In greater feast than Priam's son of Troy: Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour! The large green courts where we were wont to hove, With eyes cast up into the Maiden Tower,

And easy sighs such as folk draw in love.

The stately seats, the ladies bright of hue;
The dances short, long tales of great delight,
With words and looks that tigers could but rue,
Where each of us did plead the other's right.
The palm-play, where, despoiled for the game;
Have missed the ball and got sight of our dame,
With dazed eyes oft we by gleams of love,
To bait her eyes, which kept the leads above.
The gravel ground, with sleeves tied on the helm
Of foaming horse,2 with swords and friendly hearts;
With cheer, as though one should another whelm,
Where we have fought, and chased oft with darts;

With silver, drops the mead yet spread for ruth,

In active games of nimbleness and strength, Where we did strain, trained with swarms of youth, Our tender limbs that yet shot up in length: The secret groves which oft we made resound, Of pleasant plaint, and of our ladies' praise, Recording oft what grace each one had found, What hope of speed what dread of long delays: The wild forest, the clothed holts with green, With reins availed 3 and swift ybreathed horse; With cry of hounds and merry blasts between, Where we did chase the fearful hart of force. The wide vales, eke, that harboured us each night, Wherewith, alas, reviveth in my breast, The sweet accord such sleeps as yet delight, The pleasant dreams, the quiet bed of rest: The secret thoughts imparted with such trust, The wanton talk, the divers change of play, The friendship sworn, each promise kept so just; Wherewith we passed the winter night away. And with this thought, the blood forsakes the face, The tears berain my cheeks of deadly hue, The which, as soon as sobbing sighs, alas, Upsupped have, thus I my plaint renew:

O place of bliss! renewer of my woes,

Give me accounts, where is my noble fere ;4
Whom in thy walls thou dost each night enclose;
To other leef,5 but unto me most dear:
Echo, alas! that doth my sorrow rue,
Returns thereto a hollow sound of plaint.
Thus I alone, where all my freedom grew,

In prison pine with bondage and restraint,
And with remembrance of the greater grief
To banish the less, I find my chief relief.