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The Nightingale said, Not to that behoof
Put God sic beauty in a lady's face,

That she suld have the thank therefor or luve,
But He, the worker, that put in her sic grace;
Of beauty, bounty, riches, time, or space,

And every gudeness that been to come or gone
The thank redounds to him in every place :
All love is lost, but upon God alone.

O Nightingale! it were a story nice,
That love suld not depend on charity;
And, gif that virtue contrar be to vice,
Then love maun be a virtue, as thinks me

For, aye, to love envy maun contrar' be:

God bade eke love thy neighbour fro the spleen,2
And who than ladies sweeter neighbours be?

A lusty life in Lovis service been.

The Nightingale said, Bird, why does thou rave?
Man may take in his lady sic delight,

Him to forget that her sic virtue gave,

And for his heaven receive her colour white:

3

Her golden tressit hairis redomite,3

Like to Opollo's beamis tho' they shone,
Suld not him blind fro' love that is perfite;
All love is lost but upon God alone.

The Merle said, Love is cause of honour aye,
Love makis cowards manhood to purchase,

Love makis knichtis hardy at essay,

Love makis wretches full of largeness,

Love makis sweir 4 folks full of business,
Love makis sluggards fresh and well be seen,
Love changes vice in virtuous nobleness;
A lusty life in Lovis service been.

The Nightingale said, True is the contrary;
Sic frustis love it blindis men so far,

Into their minds it makis them to vary;

In false vain glory they so drunken are,

3 Bound, encircled.

2 Equivalent to the modern phrase, from the heart. 4 Slothful.

Their wit is went, of woe they are not waur,
While that all worship away be fro' them gone,

Fame, goods, and strength; wherefore well say I daur,

All love is lost but upon God alone.

Then said the Merle, mine error I confess.

This frustis love is all but vanity:

Blind ignorance me gave sic hardiness,

To argue so again the verity ;

Wherefore I counsel every man that he
With love not in the feindis net be tone,1

But love the love that did for his love die:

All love is lost but upon God alone.

Then sang they both with voices loud and clear,

The Merle sang, Man, love God that has thee wrought.
The Nightingale sang, Man, love the Lord most dear,

That thee and all this world made of nought.

The Merle said, love him that thy love has sought

Fro' heaven to earth, and here took flesh and bone.

The Nightingale sang, And with his dead thee bought:
All love is lost, but upon him alone.

Then flew thir birdis o'er the boughis sheen,

Singing of love amang the leavis small;

Whose eidant plead yet made my thoughtis grein,2

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.

To most readers there is something more touching in those less labored verses in which the poet moralizes on the brevity of existence, the shortness and uncertainty of all ordinary enjoyments, and the wickedness and woes of mankind, than in his more elaborate productions. From these poems. we select the following specimen :--

This wavering warld's wretchedness
The failing and fruitless business,
The misspent time, the service vain
For to consider is ane pain.

The sliding joy, the gladness short,
The feigned love, the false comfort,
The sweir abade,3 the slightful train,4
For to consider is ane pain

The suggared mouths, with minds therefra,
The figured speech, with faces tway;

The pleasing tongues with hearts in plain,
For to consider is ane pain.

Dunbar was, however, by no means disposed habitually to take gloomy

1 Ta'en, taken.

3 Delay.

2 Whose close disputation yet moved my thoughts. 4 Snare.

or desponding views of life. He has one poem each stanza of which ends with

For to be blythe methinks it best;

and in another poem he advises, since life is so uncertain, that the good things of this world be rationally enjoyed while it is yet possible. In a third, these maxims are still more forcibly expressed; and from this we ex་་. *t the following stanzas, the philosophy of which is excellent.

Be merry, man, and tak not sair in mind

The wavering of this wretched world of sorrow

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To God be humble, to thy friend be kind,
And with thy neighbours gladly lend and borrow;
His chance to-night, it may be thine to-morrow;
Be blyth in hearte for my aventure,

For oft with wise men it has been said aforow,
Without Gladness availes no Treasure.

Make thee gude cheer of it that God thee sends,
For warld's wrak but welfarel nought avails;
Nae gude is thine save only that thou spends,
Remanant all thou bruikes but with bails;2
Seek to solace when sadness thee assails ;
In dolour lang thy life may not endure.
Wherefore of comfort set up all thy sails;
Without gladness availes no Treasure.

Follow on pity, flee trouble and debate,
With famous folkis hald thy company;
Be charitable and hum'le in thine estate,
For warldly honour lastes but a cry.

For trouble in earth tak no melancholy;
Be rich in patience, if thou in gudes be poor;

Who lives merrily he lives mightily;

Without gladness availes no Treasure.

Dunbar was as great in the Comic as in the solemn strain, but unfortunately not so pure. Among his Comic poems there is one piece of peculiar humor, descriptive of an imaginary tournament between a Tailor and a Shoemaker in the same low regions where he places 'The Dance' of "The Seven Deadly Sins.' It is written in the style of the broadest farce, and though the language is very often offensive, yet it is as droll as any thing in Smollett.

We have dwelt longer upon the life, genius, and writings of Dunbar than we had intended; but the greatest of Scotland's poets required something more than a mere passing notice.

GAVIN DOUGLAS, a contemporary of Dunbar was the youngest son of the sixth earl of Angus, and was born at Brechin in 1471. He was educated at the university of St. Andrews, after which he travelled in Germany and

1 World's trash without health.

2 Injuries.

Italy, where he cultivated the muses so successfully as to merit the acquaintance and commendation of the learned wherever he went. On his return to Scotland in 1496, having previously taken orders, he was made provost of St. Giles's church, Edinburgh, and in 1515, was elevated to the office of bishop of Dunkeld, to which the rich Abbey of Aberbrothin was soon after added. The purity of his life and character, however, exposed him to the virulent persecutions of the times, and having retired to London he there soon after died, in April 1522, and in the fifty second year of his age.

Douglas shines both as an allegorical and a descriptive poet. He wants the vigorous sense, and also the graphic force of Dunbar; for while the latter is always close and nervous, Douglas is often soft aud 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 frequently its most striking peculiarity.

The principal original composition of Douglas is a long poem entitled The Palace of Honor. It was intended as an apology for the conduct of ́a king, and was therefore addressed to James the Fourth. The poet represents himself as seeing, in a vision, a large company travelling toward the Palace of Honor. He joins them and narrates the particulars of the pilgrimages. The celebrated 'Pilgrim's Progress' bears, in its design, so striking a resemblance to this poem, that we can hardly conceive it possible that Bunyan could have been ignorant of it. King Hart, the only other long poem of Douglas, presents a metaphorical view of human life.

But by far the most able production of this author is a translation of Virgil's Aneid into Scottish verse. This work was executed in 1513, and is remarkable for 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 prefixes to each book, are esteemed among his happiest pieces. From the Prologue to the twelfth book we select the following passage :—

MORNING IN MAY.

As fresh Aurore, to mighty Tithon spouse
Ished of her saffron bed and ivor house,

In cram'sy clad and grained violate,

With sanguine cape, and selvage purpurate,

Unshet? the windows of her large hall,

Spread all with roses, and full of balm royal,

And eke the heavenly portis chrystalline

Unwarps braid, the warld till illumine;

The twinkling streamers of the orient

Shed purpour spraings with gold and azure ment ;3
Eous, the steed, with ruby harness red,

Above the seas liftis furth his head,

1 Issued from.

3 Purple streaks mingled with gold and azure.

2 Opened.

Of colour sore,1 and some deal brown as berry,
For to alichten and glad our emispery;
The flame out-bursten at the neisthirls,2
So fast Phaeton with the whip him whirls.
While shortly, with the bleezand torch of day,
Abulyit in his lemand3 fresh array,

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 glitter and glance o'erspread the oceane ;4
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 calmed sea,
The soft season, the fermanent serene,
The loune illuminate air and ferth amene.
And lusty Flora did her bloomis spread
Under the feet of Phoebus' sulyart5 steed;
The swarded soil embrode with selcouth hues,
Wood and forests obnumbrate with bews.7
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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.

SIR DAVID LYNDSAY, another Scottish poet of the period of which we are now treating, and the last that we shall at present notice, was born at the Mount, Fifeshire, in 1496, and was educated at the university of St. Andrews. He early entered upon a court life, and during the childhood of James the Fifth, he officiated as his carver, his cupbearer, his purse-master, and even as his nurse, bearing him as an infant upon his back, and dancing antics for his amusement as a boy. When James assumed the reins of government, he amply rewarded the companion of his childish sports, by elevating him to the important office of Lord Lyon King at arms; but after the fatal battle of Flodden-field, Lyndsay went to France, and

1 Yellowish brown.

5 Sultry.

2 Nostrils.
6 Uncommon.

3 Glittering.
7 Boughs.

4 Ocean.
8 Shelter.

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