Chapter III: Part 3

Hary the Aucht, King of Ingland,
That tyme at Caleis wes lyand,[345]
With his triumphand ordinance[346],
Makand weir[347] on the realme of France.
The King of France his greit armie
Lay neir hand by in Picardie,
Quhair aither uther did assaill.
Howbeit thair was na sic battaill,
Bot thair wes daylie skirmishing,
Quhare men of armis brak monie sting[348].
Quhen to the Squyer Meldrum
Wer tauld thir novellis[349] all and sum,
He thocht he wald vesie[350] the weiris;
And waillit[351] furth ane hundreth speiris,
And futemen quhilk wer bauld and stout,
The maist worthie of all his rout.
Quhen he come to the King of France
He wes sone put in ordinance:
Richt so was all his companie
That on him waitit continuallie.
Thair was into the Inglis oist[352]
Ane campioun[353] that blew greit boist.
He was ane stout man and ane strang,
Quhilk oist wald with his conduct gang[354]
Outthrow[355] the greit armie of France
His valiantnes for to avance;
And Maister Talbart was his name,[356]
Of Scottis and Frenche quhilk spak disdane,
And on his bonnet usit to beir,
Of silver fine, takinnis of weir[357];
And proclamatiounis he gart mak[358]
That he wald, for his ladies saik,
With any gentilman of France
To fecht[359] with him with speir or lance.
Bot no Frenche-man in all that land
With him durst battell hand for hand.
Than lyke ane weriour vailyeand[360]
He enterit in the Scottis band:
And quhen the Squyer Meldrum
Hard tell this campioun wes cum,
Richt haistelie he past him till,
Demanding him quhat was his will.
“Forsuith I can find none,” quod he,
“On hors nor fute dar fecht with me.”
Than said he, “It wer greit schame
Without battell ye suld pass hame;
Thairfoir to God I mak ane vow,
The morne[361] my-self sall fecht with yow
Outher on horsback or on fute.
Your crakkis[362] I count thame not ane cute[363].
I sall be fund into the feild
Armit on hors with speir and schield.”
Maister Talbart said, “My gude chyld,
It wer maist lyk that thow wer wyld[364].
Thow art too young, and hes no micht
To fecht with me that is so wicht[365].
To speik to me thow suld have feir,
For I have sik practik[366] in weir
That I wald not effeirit[367] be
To mak debait aganis sic three;
For I have stand in monie stour[368],
And ay defendit my honour.
Thairfoir, my barne, I counsell thee
Sic interprysis to let be.”
Than said this Squyer to the Knicht,
“I grant ye ar baith greit and wicht.
Young David was far les than I
Quhen with Golias manfullie,
Withouttin outher speir or scheild,
He faucht, and slew him in the feild.
I traist that God sal be my gyde,
And give me grace to stanche thy pryde.
Thocht thow be greit like Gowmakmorne,[369]
Traist weill I sall yow meit the morne.
Beside Montruill upon the grene
Befoir ten houris I sal be sene.
And gif ye wyn me in the feild
Baith hors and geir[370] I sall yow yeild,
Sa that siclyke[371] ye do to me.”
“That I sall do, be God!” quod he,
“And thairto I give thee my hand.”
And swa betwene thame maid ane band[372]
That thay suld meit upon the morne.
Bot Talbart maid at him bot scorne,
Lychtlyand[373] him with wordis of pryde,
Syne hamewart to his oist culd ryde,
And shew the brethren of his land
How ane young Scot had tane[374] on hand,
To fecht with him beside Montruill;
“Bot I traist he sall prufe the fuill.”
Quod thay, “The morne that sall we ken[375];
The Scottis are haldin hardie men.”
Quod he, “I compt thame not ane cute.
He sall returne upon his fute,
And leif with me his armour bricht;
For weill I wait[376] he has no micht,
On hors nor fute, to fecht with me.”
Quod thay, “The morne that sall we se.”
Quhan to Monsieour De Obenie[377]
Reportit was the veritie,
How that the Squyer had tane on hand
To fecht with Talbart hand for hand,
His greit courage he did commend,
Syne haistelie did for him send.
And quhen he come befoir the lord
The veritie he did record,
How for the honour of Scotland
That battell he had tane on hand;
“And sen it givis me in my hart,
Get I ane hors to tak my part,
My traist is sa, in Goddis grace,
To leif hym lyand in the place.
Howbeit he stalwart be and stout,
My lord, of him I have no dout.”
Than send the Lord out throw the land,
And gat ane hundreth hors fra hand.
To his presence he brocht in haist,
And bad the Squyer cheis[378] him the best.
Of that the Squyer was rejoisit,
And cheisit the best as he suppoisit,
And lap on hym delyverlie[379].
Was never hors ran mair plesantlie
With speir and sword at his command,
And was the best of all the land.
He tuik his leif and went to rest,
Syne airlie in the morne him drest
Wantonlie in his weirlyke weid[380],
All weill enarmit, saif the heid.
He lap upon his cursour wicht,
And straucht[381] him in his stirroppis richt.
His speir and scheild and helme wes borne
With squyeris that raid him beforne[382].
Ane velvot cap on heid he bair,
Ane quaif[383] of gold to heild[384] his hair.
This Lord of him tuik sa greit joy
That he himself wald hym convoy,
With him ane hundreth men of armes,
That thair suld no man do hym harmes.
The Squyer buir into his scheild
Ane otter in ane silver feild.
His hors was bairdit[385] full richelie,
Coverit with satyne cramesie[386].
Than fordward raid this campioun
With sound of trumpet and clarioun,
And spedilie spurrit ouir the bent[387],
Lyke Mars the God armipotent.
Thus leif we rydand our Squyar,
And speik of Maister Talbart mair:
Quhilk gat up airlie in the morrow[388],
And no manner of geir to borrow,
Hors, harnes, speir, nor scheild,
Bot was ay reddie for the feild;
And had sic practik into weir,
Of our Squyer he tuik na feir,
And said unto his companyeoun,
Or he come furth of his pavilyeoun,
“This nicht I saw into my dreame,
Quhilk to reheirs I think greit schame,
Me-thocht I saw cum fra the see
Ane greit otter rydand to me,
The quhilk was blak, with ane lang taill,
And cruellie did me assail,
And bait[389] me till he gart[390] me bleid,
And drew me backwart fra my steid.
Quhat this suld mene I cannot say,
Bot I was never in sic ane fray[391].”
His fellow said, “Think ye not schame
For to gif credence till ane dreame?
Ye knaw it is aganis our faith,
Thairfoir go dres yow in your graith[392],
And think weill throw your hie courage
This day ye sall wyn vassalage.”
Then drest he him into his geir
Wantounlie like ane man of weir
Quhilk had baith hardines and fors,
And lichtlie lap upon his hors.
His hors was bairdit full bravelie,
And coverit was richt courtfullie
With browderit[393] wark and velvot grene.
Sanct George’s croce thare micht be sene
On hors, harnes, and all his geir.
Than raid he furth withouttin weir[394],
Convoyit with his capitane
And with monie ane Inglisman
Arrayit all with armes bricht;
Micht no man see ane fairer sicht.
Than clariounis and trumpettis blew;
And weriouris monie hither drew.
On everie side come monie man
To behald quha the battell wan.
The feild wes in the medow grene,
Quhair everie man micht weill be sene.
The heraldis put thame sa in ordour
That no man passit within the bordour
Nor preissit to cum within the grene
Bot heraldis and the campiounis kene.
The ordour and the circumstance
Wer lang to put in remembrance.
Quhen thir twa nobilmen of weir
Wer weill accowterit in their geir
And in their handis strang burdounis[395],
Than trumpettis blew and clariounis,
And heraldis cryit hie on hicht,
“Now let tham go! God shaw the richt!”
Than spedilie thay spurrit thair hors,
And ran to uther with sic fors
That baith thair speiris in sindrie flaw.
Than said thay all that stude on raw,
Ane better cours than they twa ran
Wes not sene sen the warld began.
Than baith the parties wer rejoisit.
The campiounis ane quhyle repoisit
Till they had gottin speiris new.
Than with triumph the trumpettis blew,
And they with all the force thay can
Wounder[396] rudelie at aither ran,
And straik at uther with sa greit ire
That fra thair harnes flew the fyre.
Thair speiris wer sa teuch[397] and strang
That aither uther to eirth doun dang[398].
Baith hors and man, with speir and scheild,
Than flatlingis[399] lay into the feild.
Than Maister Talbart was eschamit.
“Forsuith for ever I am defamit!”
And said this, “I had rather die
Without that I revengit be.”
Our young Squyer, sic was his hap,
Was first on fute; and on he lap
Upon his hors, without support.
Of that the Scottis tuke gude comfort,
Quhen thay saw him sa feirelie[400]
Loup on his hors sa galyeardlie[401].
The Squyer liftit his visair
Ane lytill space to take the air.
Thay bad hym wyne, and he it drank,
And humillie he did thame thank.
Be that Talbart on hors wes mountit,
And of our Squyer lytill countit.
And cryit gif he durst undertak
To run anis[402] for his ladies saik?
The Squyer answerit hie on hicht,
“That sall I do, be Marie bricht!
I am content all day to ryn,
Tyll ane of us the honour wyn.”
Of that Talbart was weill content,
And ane greit speir in hand he hent[403].
The Squyer in his hand he thrang[404]
His speir, quhilk was baith greit and lang,
With ane sharp heid of grundin steill,
Of quhilk he wes appleisit weill[405].
That plesand feild was lang and braid,
Quhair gay ordour and rowme was maid,
And everie man micht have gude sicht,
And thair was mony weirlyke knicht.
Sum man of everie natioun
Was in that congregatioun.
Than trumpettis blew triumphantlie,
And thai[406] twa campiounis egeirlie
Thai spurrit thair hors, with speir on breist
Pertlie to preif thair pith thay preist[407].
That round, rink roume wes at utterance[408];
Bot Talbartis hors with ane mischance,
He outterit[409], and to ryn was laith;
Quhairof Talbart was wonder wraith.
The Squyer furth his rink[410] he ran,
Commendit weill with everie man;
And him dischargeit of his speir
Honestlie lyke ane man of weir.
Becaus that rink thay ran in vane
Than Talbart wald not ryn agane
Till he had gottin ane better steid;
Quhilk was brocht to him with gude speid.
Quhairon he lap, and tuik his speir,
As brym[411] as he had bene ane beir.
And bowtit[412] fordward with ane bend[413],
And ran on to the rinkis end,
And saw his hors was at command.
Than wes he blyith, I understand,
Traistand na mair to ryn in vane.
Than all the trumpettis blew agane.
Be that with all the force thay can
Thay rycht rudelie at uther ran.
Of that meiting ilk[414] man thocht wounder,
Quhilk soundit lyke ane crak of thunder.
And nane of thame thair marrow[415] mist:
Sir Talbartis speir in sunder brist,
Bot the Squyer with his burdoun[416]
Sir Talbart to the eirth dang doun.
That straik was with sic micht and fors
That on the ground lay man and hors;
And throw the brydell-hand him bair,
And in the breist ane span and mair.
Throw curras[417] and throw gluifis of plait,
That Talbart micht mak na debait,
The trencheour of the Squyeris speir.
Stak still into Sir Talbartis geir.
Than everie man into that steid[418]
Did all beleve that he was deid.
The Squyer lap rycht haistelie
From his cursour deliverlie,
And to Sir Talbart maid support,
And humillie did him comfort.
Quhen Talbart saw into his scheild
Ane otter in ane silver feild,
“This race,” said he, “I may sair rew,
For I see weill my dreme wes trew.
Me-thocht yone otter gart me bleid,
And buir me backwart from my steid.
Bot heir I vow to God soverane
That I sall never just[419] agane.”
And sweitlie to the Squyer said,
“Thow knawis the cunning[420] that we maid,
Quhilk of us twa suld tyne[421] the feild
He suld baith hors and armour yield
Till him that wan: quhairfoir I will
My hors and harnes geve thee till.”
Then said the Squyer courteouslie,
“Brother, I thank yow hartfullie.
Of yow forsuith nathing I crave,
For I have gottin that I wald have.”
With everie man he was commendit,
Sa vailyeandlie he him defendit.
The Capitane of the Inglis band
Tuke the young Squyer be the hand,
And led him to the pailyeoun[422],
And gart him mak collatioun.
Quhen Talbartis woundis wes bund up fast
The Inglis capitane to him past,
And prudentlie did him comfort,
Syne said, “Brother, I yow exhort
To tak the Squyer be the hand.”
And sa he did at his command;
And said, “This bene but chance of armes.”
With that he braisit[423] him in his armes,
Sayand, “Hartlie I yow forgeve.”
And then the Squyer tuik his leve,
Commendit weill with everie man.
Than wichtlie[424] on his hors he wan,
With monie ane nobyll man convoyit.
Leve we thair Talbart sair annoyit.
Some sayis of that discomfitour
He thocht sic schame and dishonour
That he departit of that land,
And never wes sene into Ingland.

[344] The hero of the romance of which this forms the most important episode, was an actual contemporary of Lyndsay, some of whose romantic adventures are referred to by Pitscottie in his _History_, p. 129. Upon the conclusion of his youthful adventures Meldrum settled in Kinross, where he owned the estate of Cleish and Binns; and being appointed deputy of Patrick, Lord Lyndsay, Sheriff of Fife, is said to have administered physic as well as law to his neighbours.

[345] Henry VIII. lay at Calais in July, 1513.

[346] array.

[347] Making war.

[348] pikes.

[349] this news.

[350] view, visit.

[351] chose.

[352] host.

[353] champion.

[354] go.

[355] Throughout.

[356] Readers of Wyntoun’s _Cronykil_ will remember that in the description of the great tournament at Berwick in 1338 it is a knight of the same name, Sir Richard Talbot, who is defeated in somewhat similar fashion by Sir Patrick Græme. See _Early Scottish Poetry_, p. 173.

[357] tokens of war.

[358] caused be made.

[359] fight.

[360] a valiant warrior.

[361] To-morrow.

[362] words, boasts.

[363] a small piece of straw.

[364] gone astray.

[365] strong.

[366] such practice.

[367] afraid.

[368] storm.

[369] Gaul, son of Morni, first the enemy and afterwards the ally of Fingal, is one of the chief heroes of the Ossianic poems.

[370] belongings.

[371] in such fashion.

[372] covenant.

[373] Making light of.

[374] taken.

[375] know.

[376] well I know.

[377] Robert Stewart, Lord D’Aubigny and Mareschal of France, descended from the Darnley and Lennox family, was Captain of the Scots Guards of the King of France in the beginning of the sixteenth century. Readers of _Quentin Durward_ will remember Scott’s description of the post as held by Lord Crawford.

[378] choose.

[379] nimbly.

[380] in warlike garb.

[381] stretched.

[382] before.

[383] coif, band.

[384] hold.

[385] caparisoned.

[386] crimson cloth.

[387] over the rough grassy ground.

[388] morning.

[389] beat.

[390] made.

[391] such a fright.

[392] covering.

[393] embroidered.

[394] doubt.

[395] staves, spears.

[396] Wonderfully.

[397] tough.

[398] dashed.

[399] flatwise.

[400] nimbly.

[401] gallantly.

[402] once.

[403] seized.

[404] grasped.

[405] well pleased.

[406] these.

[407] Boldly to prove their strength they pressed.

[408] coursing room was from the extremity, _à l’outrance_.

[409] swerved.

[410] course.

[411] violent.

[412] bolted.

[413] bound.

[414] each.

[415] match.

[416] pike, spear.

[417] cuirasse.

[418] place.

[419] joust.

[420] compact.

[421] lose.

[422] pavilion.

[423] embraced.

[424] gallantly.

THE SQUYERIS ADEW.[425]

Fair weill, ye lemant[426] lampis of lustines[427]
Of fair Scotland, adew my Ladies all!
During my youth with ardent besines,
Ye knaw how I was in your service thrall.
Ten thowsand times adew above thame all
Sterne[428] of Stratherne, my Ladie Soverane!
For quhome I sched my blud with mekill[429] pane.

Yit wald my Ladie luke at evin and morrow[430]
On my legend, at length scho wald not mis
How for hir saik I sufferit mekill sorrow.
Yit give[431] I micht at this time get my wis[432],
Of hir sweit mouth, deir God, I had ane kis.
I wis in vane, allace we will dissever,
I say na mair, Sweit hart, adew for ever!

[425] These are two of the last stanzas of “The Testament of Squyer Meldrum,” a composition chiefly occupied with the doughty squire’s directions for a sumptuous funeral. The lady to whom they are addressed was Marion Lawson, the young widow of John Haldane of Gleneagles, slain at Flodden, for whom the Squyer upon his return to Scotland in 1515 had formed a strong attachment, and by whom he had become the father of two children. In August, 1517, according to Pitscottie, Meldrum had, in gallantly defending his possession of this lady, been crippled and left for dead on the road to Leith by his rival Luke Stirling, brother of the laird of Keir, who followed him from Edinburgh and attacked him with fifty men.

[426] shining.

[427] beauty.

[428] Star.

[429] much.

[430] evening and morning.

[431] if.

[432] wish.

ANE PLEASANT SATYRE OF THE THRIE ESTAITIS.

PROLOGUE.

_Spoken by DILIGENCE._

THE FATHER and founder of faith and felicitie,
That your fassioun[433] formed to his similitude,
And his SONE, our Saviour, scheild in necessitie,
That bocht yow from baillis[434], ransonit on the Rude,
Repleadgeand[435] his presonaris with his hart blude;
The HALIE GAIST, governour and grounder of grace,
Of wisdome and weilfair baith fontane and flude,
Saif yow all that I sie seisit[436] in this place,
And scheild yow from sinne,
And with his spreit yow inspyre,
Till I have schawin my desyre!
Silence, Soveraine, I requyre,
For now I begin.

* * * * *

Prudent Peopill I pray yow all
Tak na man greif in speciall,
For wee sall speik in generall,
For pastyme and for play:
Thairfoir till all our rymis be rung
And our mistoinit[437] sangis be sung
Let everie man keip weill ane toung
And everie woman tway.

AN INTERLUDE OF THE PUIR MAN AND THE PARDONER.

[_Heir sall entir Pauper the puir man._

PAUPER.

Of your almis, gude folks, for God’s luife[438] of heavin,
For I have motherles bairns either sax or seavin.
Gif ye’ill gif me na gude[439], for the luife of Jesus
Wische[440] me the richt way till Sanct-Androes.

DILIGENCE.

Quhair haif wee gottin this gudly companzeoun?
Swyith[441]! out of the feild, [thow] fals raggit loun.
God wait[442] gif heir be ane weill-keipit place,
Quhen sic ane vilde[443] begger carle may get entres[444].
Fy on yow officiars, that mends nocht thir failyies[445]!
I gif yow all till the Devill, baith Provost and Bailzies!
Without ye cum and chase this carle away,
The devill a word ye’is get mair of our play.
Fals huirsun, raggit carle, quhat Devil is that thou rugs[446]?

PAUPER.

Quha Devill, maid thee ane gentill man, that wald cut not thy lugs[447]?

DILIGENCE.

Quhat now! me-thinks the carle begins to crack[448].
Swyith, carle, away, or be this day I’se break thy back.

[_Heir sall the Carle clim up and sit in the King’s tchyre._

Cum doun, or be God’s croun, fals loun, I sall slay thee.

PAUPER.

Now sweir be thy brunt[449] schinnis, the Devill ding[450] thame fra thee.
Quhat say ye till thir court dastards? be[451] thay get hail clais[452],
Sa sune as thay leir[453] to sweir and trip on thair tais.

DILIGENCE.

Me-thocht the carle callit me knave, evin in my face.
Be Sanct Fillane! thou sal be slane bot gif[454] thou ask grace.
Loup[455] doun, or, be the gude Lord, thow sall lose thy heid.

PAUPER.

I sall anis drink or I ga, thocht[456] thou had sworne my deid[457].

[_Heir Diligence castis away the ledder._

DILIGENCE.

Loup now, gif thou list, for thou hes lost the ledder.
It is full weill thy kind to loup, and licht in a tedder[458].

PAUPER.

Thou sall be faine to fetch agane the ledder, or I loup.
I sall sit heir into this tcheir till I have tumde[459] the stoup[460].

[_Heir sall the Carle loup aff the scaffald._

DILIGENCE.

Swyith[461]! beggar, bogill[462], haist thé away;
Thow art over pert to spill our Play.

PAUPER.

I will not gif, for al your Play, worth an sowis fart:
For thair is richt lytill play at my hungrie hart.

DILIGENCE.

Quhat devill ails this cruckit carle?

PAUPER.

Marie! meikill[463] sorrow.
I can not get, thocht I gasp, to beg nor to borrow.

DILIGENCE.

Quhair, devill, is this thou dwels? or quhat’s thy intent?

PAUPER.

I dwell into Lawthiane, ane myle fra Tranent.

DILIGENCE.

Quhair wald thou be, carle? the suth[464] to me schaw.

PAUPER.

Sir, evin to Sanct-Androes, for to seik law.

DILIGENCE.

For to seik law, in Edinburgh was the neirest way.

PAUPER.

Sir, I socht law thair this monie deir day,
Bot I culd get nane at Sessioun nor Seinzie;[465]
Thairfor the meikill din Devill droun all the meinzie[466].

DILIGENCE.

Schaw me thy mater, man, with all the circumstances,
How that thou hes happinit on thir unhappie chances.

PAUPER.

Gude man, will ye gif me of your charitie,
And I sall declair yow the black veritie.
My father was ane auld man and ane hoir[467],
And was of age fourscoir of yeirs and moir.
And Mald, my mother, was fourscoir and fyfteine,
And with my labour I did thame baith susteine.
Wee had ane meir that caryit salt and coill[468],
And everie ilk[469] yeir scho brocht us hame ane foill.
Wee had thrie ky[470] that was baith fat and fair,
Nane tydier into the toun of Air.[471]
My father was sa waik of blude and bane
That he deit[472], quhairfoir my mother maid great maine.
Then scho deit, within ane day or two;
And thair began my povertie and wo.
Our gude gray meir was baittand[473] on the feild,
And our land’s laird tuik hir for his hyreild.[474]
The vickar tuik the best cow be the heid,
Incontinent, quhen my father was deid.
And quhen the vickar hard tel how that my mother
Was deid, fra hand he tuk to him ane-uther.
Then Meg, my wife, did murne baith evin and morrow,
Till at the last scho deit for verie sorrow.
And quhen the vickar hard tell my wyfe was dead
The thrid cow he cleikit[475] be the heid.
Thair umest clayis[476], that was of rapploch[477] gray,
The vickar gart his clark bear them away.[478]
Quhen all was gane I micht mak na debeat,
Bot with my bairns past for till beg my meat.
Now haif I tald yow the blak veritie
How I am brocht into this miserie.

DILIGENCE.

How did the person[479]? was he not thy gude freind?

PAUPER.

The Devil stick him! he curst me for my teind,
And halds me yit under that same proces
That gart me want the Sacrament at Pasche.
In gude faith, Sir, thocht he wald cut my throt,
I have na geir except ane Inglis grot[480],
Quhilk I purpois to gif ane man of law.

DILIGENCE.

Thou art the daftest fuill that ever I saw.
Trows[481] thou, man, be the law to get remeid
Of men of Kirk! Na, nocht till thou be deid.

PAUPER.

Sir, be quhat law, tell me, quhairfoir or quhy
That ane vickar suld tak fra me thrie ky?

DILIGENCE.

Thay have na law exceptand consuetude,
Quhilk law, to them, is sufficient and gude.

PAUPER.

Ane consuetude against the common weill
Suld be na law, I think, be sweit Sanct Geill.
Quhair will ye find that law, tell gif ye can,
To tak thrie ky fra ane pure husband-man?
Ane for my father, and for my wyfe ane-uther,
And the third cow he tuke fra Mald my mother.

DILIGENCE.

It is thair law, all that thay have in use,
Thocht it be cow, sow, ganer[482], gryse[483], or guse.

PAUPER.

Sir, I wald speir[484] at yow ane questioun.
Behauld sum prelats of this regioun--

[Here the Puir Man recites further legalised oppressions by the priesthood, but is interrupted.]

DILIGENCE.

Hald thy toung, man, it seims that thou war mangit.[485]
Speik thou of preists but[486] doubt thou will be hangit.

PAUPER.

Be Him that buir the cruell croun of thorne,
I cair nocht to be hangit, evin the morne.

DILIGENCE.

Be sure of preistis thou will get na support.

PAUPER.

Gif that be trew the Feind resave the sort[487]!
Sa sen I se I get na uther grace
I will ly down and rest mee in this place.

[_Heir sall the Puirman ly doun in the feild, and the Pardoner sall cum in and say._

PARDONER.

Bona dies! Bona dies!
Devoit Pepill, gude day I say yow.
Now tarie ane lytill quhyll, I pray yow,
Till I be with yow knawin.
Wat ye weill how I am namit?
Ane nobill man and undefamit,
Gif that all the suith war schawin.
I am Sir Robert Rome-raker,
Ane perfyte publike pardoner[488]
Admittit be the Paip.
Sirs, I sall schaw yow, for my wage,
My pardons and my pilgramage,
Quhilk ye sall se, and graip[489].
I give to the Devill, with gude intent,
This unsell[490] wickit New Testament,
With thame that it translaitit.
Sen layik[491] men knew the veritie
Pardoners get no charitie
Without that thay debait it.
Amang the wives with wrinks[492] and wyles,
As all my marrowis[493], men begyles
With our fair fals flattrie.
Yea, all the crafts I ken perqueir[494]
As I was teichit be ane freir
Callit Hypocrisie.
Bot now, allace! our greit abusioun
Is cleirlie knawin till our confusioun,
That we may sair repent.
Of all credence now I am quyte,
For ilk man halds me at dispyte
That reids the New Test’ment.
Duill fell[495] the braine that hes it wrocht!
Sa fall them that the Buik hame brocht!
Als I pray to the Rude
That Martin Luther, that fals loun[496],
Black Bullinger, and Melancthoun,
Had bene smorde in thair cude[497].
Be him that buir the crowne of thorne
I wald Sanct Paull had never bene borne;
And als I wald his buiks
War never red in the kirk,
Bot amangs freirs, into the mirk[498],
Or riven amang ruiks!

[_Heir sall he lay doun his geir upon ane buird, and say,_

My patent pardouns ye may se,
Cum fra the Cane[499] of Tartarie,
Weill seald with oster-schellis.
Thocht ye have na contritioun
Ye sall have full remissioun
With help of buiks and bellis.
Heir is ane relict lang and braid,
Of Fin Macoull the richt chaft blaid[500],
With teith and al togidder.
Of Colling’s cow heir is ane horne,
For eating of Makconnal’s corne
Was slaine into Baquhidder.
Heir is ane coird baith great and lang
Quhilk hangit Johne the Armistrang,[501]
Of gude hemp, soft and sound.
Gude halie peopill, I stand for’d,
Quha-ever beis hangit with this cord
Neids never to be dround.
The culum[502] of Sanct Bryd’s kow;
The gruntill[503] of Sanct Antonis sow,
Quhilk buir his haly bell.
Quha-ever he be heiris this bell clinck
Gif me ane ducat for till drink;
He sall never gang[504] to hell,
Without he be of Baliell[505] borne.
Maisters, trow ye that this be scorne[506].
Cum win this pardoun, cum.
Quha luifis thair wyfis nocht with thair hart,
I have power thame for till part.
Me-think yow deif and dum:
Hes nane of yow curst wickit wyfis
That haldis yow intill sturt[507] and stryfis,
Cum tak my dispensatioun;
Of that cummer[508] I sall mak yow quyte,
Howbeit your-selfis be in the wyte[509],
And mak ane fals narratioun.
Cum win the pardoun, now let se,
For meill, for malt, or for monie,
For cok, hen, guse, or gryse.
Of relicts heir I haif ane hunder;
Quhy cum ye nocht? this is ane wounder:
I trow ye be nocht wyse.

[A grotesque episode is here introduced in which the Pardoner, for the price of “ane cuppill of sarks” (shirts), divorces a malcontent sowtar, or shoemaker, and his wife. Upon their despatch, east and west, the Pardoner’s boy cries from the hill.]

WILKIN.

Hoaw! Maister, hoaw! quhair ar ye now?

PARDONER.

I am heir, Wilkin widdiefow[510].

WILKIN.

Sir, I have done your bidding,
For I have fund ane greit hors bane,
Ane fairer saw ye never nane,
Upon dame Flescher’s midding.
Sir, ye may gar the wyfis trow
It is ane bane of Sanct Bryd’s cow,
Gude for the fever quartane[511].
Sir, will ye reull this relict weill,
All the wyfis will baith kiss and kneill
Betuixt this and Dumbartane.

PARDONER.

Quhat say thay of me in the Toun?

WILKIN.

Some sayis ye are ane verie loun,
Sum sayis _Legatus Natus_;
Sum sayis ye ar ane fals Saracene,
And sum sayis ye ar for certaine
_Diabolus Incarnatus_.
Bot keip yow fra subjectioun
Of the curst King Correctioun;
For, be ye with him fangit[512],
Becaus ye ar ane Rome-raker,
Ane common publick cawsay-paker[513],
But doubt ye will be hangit.

PARDONER.

Quhair sall I ludge into the toun?

WILKIN.

With gude kynde Cristiane Anderson,
Quhair ye will be weill treatit.
Gif ony limmer[514] yow demands,
Scho will defend yow with hir hands,
And womanlie debait it.
Bawburdie sayis be the Trinitie
That scho sall beir yow cumpanie
Howbeit ye byde ane yeir[515].

PARDONER.

Thou hes done weill, be God’s mother;
Tak ye the taine[516] and I the tother,
Sa sall we mak greit cheir.

WILKIN.

I reid[517] yow, speid yow heir,
And mak na langer tarie;
Byde ye lang thair, but weir[518],
I dreid your weird yow warie[519].

[_Heir sall Pauper rise, and rax him._

PAUPER.

Quhat thing was yon that I heard crak[520] and cry?
I have bene dreamand, and dreveland[521] of my ky.
With my richt hand my haill bodie I saine[522];
Sanct Bryd, Sanct Bryd, send me my ky againe!
I se standand yonder ane halie man,
To mak me help let me se gif he can.
Halie Maister, God speid yow, and gude morne!

PARDONER.

Welcum to me, thocht thou war at the horne![523]
Cum win the pardoun, and syne I sall thé saine[524].

PAUPER.

Will that pardon get me my ky againe?

PARDONER.

Carle, of thy ky I have nathing ado:
Cum win my pardon, and kis my relicts to.

[_Heir sall he saine him with his relictis._

Now lowse thy pursse and lay doun thy offrand,
And thou sall have my pardoun evin fra hand.
With raipis[525] and relicts I sall thé saine againe;
Of gut[526] or gravell thou sall never have paine.
Now win the pardoun, limmer, or thou art lost.

PAUPER.

My haly Father, quhat wil that pardon cost?

PARDONER.

Let se quhat mony thou bearest in thy bag.

PAUPER.

I haif ane grot heir, bund into ane rag.

PARDONER.

Hes thou na uther silver bot ane groat?

PAUPER.

Gif I have mair, Sir, cum and rype[527] my coat.

PARDONER.

Gif me that groat, man, gif thou hest na mair.

PAUPER.

With all my hart, Maister, lo tak it thair.
Now let me se your pardon, with your leif.

PARDONER.

Ane thousand yeir of pardons I thee geif.

PAUPER.

Ane thousand yeir! I will nocht live sa lang.
Delyver me it, Maister, and let me gang[528].

PARDONER.

Ane thousand year I lay upon thy head,
With _totiens quotiens_: now, mak me na mair plead:
Thou hast resaifit thy pardon now already.

PAUPER.

Bot, I can se na-thing, Sir, be Our Lady.
Forsuith, Maister, I trow I be nocht wyse
To pay ere I have sene my marchandryse.
That ye have gottin my groat full sair I rew.
Sir, quhidder is your pardon black or blew?
Maister, sen ye have tain fra me my cunzie[529],
My marchandryse schaw me, withouttin sunzie[530];
Or to the bischop I sall pas and pleinzie[531]
In Sanct-Androis, and summond yow to the Seinzie[532].

PARDONER.

Quhat craifis[533] the carle? me-thinks thou art not wise.

PAUPER.

I craif my groat, or ellis my marchandrise.

PARDONER.

I gaif thé pardon for ane thowsand yeir.

PAUPER.

How sall I get that pardon, let me heir.

PARDONER.

Stand still and I sall tell the haill[534] storie.
Quhen thow art deid, and gais to Purgatorie,
Being condempnit to paine a thowsand yeir,
Then sall thy pardoun thee releif, but weir.
Now be content, ye ar ane mervelous man.

PAUPER.

Sall I get nathing for my groat quhill than[535]?

PARDONER.

That sall thou not, I mak it to yow plaine.

PAUPER.

Na than, gossop, gif me my groat againe.
Quhat say ye, Maisters? call ye this gude resoun,
That he suld promeis me ane gay pardoun,
And he resave my mony, in his stead[536],
Syne mak me na payment till I be dead?
Quhen I am deid I wait full sikkerlie[537]
My sillie[538] saull will pas to Purgatorie.
Declair me this, now God nor Baliell bind thé,
Quhen I am thair, curst carle, quhair sall I find thé?
Not in heavin, but rather into hell.
Quhen thow art thair thou cannot help thy-sell.
Quhen will thou cum my dolours till abait?
Or[539] I thee find my hippis will get ane hait[540].
Trowis thou, butchour, that I will buy blind lambis?
Gif me my groat, the Devill dryte[541] in thy gambis[542]!

PARDONER.

Swyith! stand abak! I trow this man be mangit[543].
Thou gets not this, carle, thocht thou suld be hangit.

PAUPER.

Gif me my groat, weill bund into ane clout[544],
Or, be Goddis breid[545], Robin sall beir ane rout[546].

[_Heir sall thay fecht with silence; and Pauper sal cast down the buird, and cast the relicts in the water._

DILIGENCE.

Quhat kind of daffing[547] is this al day?
Swyith, smaiks[548]! out of the feild, away!
Intill ane presoun put them sone,
Syne hang them, quhen the PLAY is done.

THE POOR MAN’S MARE.

PAUPER.

Marie! I lent my gossop my mear, to fetch hame coills,
And he hir drounit into the querrell hollis:[549]
And I ran to the Consistorie, for to pleinze,
And thair I happinit amang are greidie meinze[550].
Thay gave me first ane thing thay call _Citandum_,
Within aucht[551] dayis I gat bot _Lybellandum_,
Within ane moneth I gat _ad Opponendum_,
In half ane yeir I gat _Interloquendum_,
And syne I gat, how call ye it? _ad Replicandum_:
Bot I could never ane word yit understand him.
And than thay gart me cast out many plackis[552],
And gart me pay for four and twentie actis.
Bot or thay came half gait[553] to _Concludendum_
The Feind ane plack was left for to defend him.
Thus thay postponit me twa yeir with thair traine[554],
Syne, _Hodie ad octo_, bad me cum againe;
And than, thir ruiks, thay roupit[555] wonder fast,
For sentence silver thay cryit at the last.
Of _Pronunciandum_ thay maid me wonder faine;
Bot I got never my gude gray meir againe.

[433] fashion.

[434] bought you from woes.

[435] Redeeming.

[436] seated.

[437] mistuned.

[438] love.

[439] goods.

[440] make me know.

[441] Quick.

[442] God knows.

[443] vile.

[444] entry.

[445] these failings.

[446] what the devil is that thou tearest?

[447] ears.

[448] talk.

[449] burnt.

[450] dash.

[451] by the time that.

[452] whole clothes.

[453] learn.

[454] but if, unless.

[455] Leap.

[456] though.

[457] death.

[458] tether, halter.

[459] emptied.

[460] pitcher.

[461] Haste.

[462] hobgoblin.

[463] much.

[464] truth.

[465] The Court of Session had been established by James V. in May, 1532. The Seinzie was the older ecclesiastical consistory, or bishops’ court.

[466] company.

[467] hoar.

[468] _i.e._ in panniers, the ancient means of carriage.

[469] separate

[470] kine.

[471] Ayrshire cattle were, to judge from this reference, as much esteemed in the sixteenth century as they are in the nineteenth.

[472] died.

[473] pasturing.

[474] Formerly the fine paid the feudal superior for relief from armed service; afterwards a fine of the best chattel, exacted by the landlord on the death of a tenant.

[475] clutched.

[476] uppermost clothes.

[477] coarse woollen.

[478] The reference here, says Laing, is to the _cors present_, or funeral gift to the clerk, the exaction of which had become a heavy grievance to the poor.

[479] parson.

[480] fourpence.

[481] Trowest.

[482] gander.

[483] pig.

[484] ask.

[485] stupefied.

[486] without.

[487] lot.

[488] The retailing of papal indulgences, here satirized by Lyndsay, was one of the chief abuses against which Luther had raised the indignation of Germany.

[489] grope, grip.

[490] naughty.

[491] lay.

[492] tricks.

[493] fellows.

[494] I know by heart.

[495] Sorrow destroy.

[496] knave.

[497] smothered in their baptism-cloth.

[498] dark.

[499] Khan.

[500] The real jawbone of Fingal.

[501] See introduction to King James the Fifth, p. 143.

[502] tail.

[503] snout.

[504] go.

[505] Belial.

[506] jest.

[507] vexation.

[508] cumber.

[509] blame.

[510] rascal, _lit._ gallowsful.

[511] fourth-day or intermittent fever.

[512] laid hold of.

[513] street-walker.

[514] scoundrel.

[515] Though you stay a year.

[516] one.

[517] counsel.

[518] without doubt.

[519] your fate you curse.

[520] speak.

[521] drivelling.

[522] my whole body I cross.

[523] _At the horne_, proclaimed rebel. Outlawry was proclaimed with three blasts of a horn. In 1512 Gavin Douglas was one of a great assize which passed an Act anent “the resset of Rebellis, and Personis being at our souerane Lordis horne.”

[524] bless.

[525] ropes.

[526] gout.

[527] search.

[528] go.

[529] coin.

[530] excuse.

[531] complain.

[532] Consistory.

[533] craves.

[534] whole.

[535] till then.

[536] place.

[537] I know full surely.

[538] frail.

[539] Ere.

[540] heat.

[541] evacuate fæces.

[542] gums.

[543] confounded.

[544] rag.

[545] by the altar.

[546] blow.

[547] sport.

[548] Quick, fellows!

[549] Laing quotes from the chartulary of Newbattle a grant by Seyer de Quency, lord of the manor of Tranent, of a coal-pit and quarry on the lands of Preston; which shows mining and quarrying to have been industries there as early as 1202.

[550] company.

[551] eight.

[552] a Scots plack equalled the third of a penny.

[553] halfway.

[554] device.

[555] croaked.

DAYBREAK IN MAY.

_From the Prologue to “The Monarche.”_

Musing and marvelling on the miserie
Frome day to day in erth quhilk dois incres,
And of ilk[556] stait the instabilitie
Proceding of the restless besynes
Quhare-on the most part doith thair mynd addres
Inordinatlie, on houngrye covatyce,
Vaine glore, dissait, and uther sensuall vyce:

Bot tumlyng in my bed I mycht nocht lye;
Quharefore I fuir[557] furth in ane Maye mornyng,
Conforte to gett of my malancolye,
Sumquhat affore fresche Phebus uprysing,
Quhare I mycht heir the birdis sweitlye syng.
In-tyll ane park I past, for my plesure
Decorit weill be craft of dame Nature.

Quhow I resavit confort naturall
For tyll discryve[558] at lenth it war too lang;
Smelling the holsum herbis medicinall,
Quhare-on the dulce and balmy dew down dang[559],
Lyke aurient peirles on the twistis[560] hang;
Or quhow that the aromatic odouris
Did proceid frome the tender fragrant flouris;

Or quhow Phebus, that king etheriall,
Swyftlie sprang up in-to the Orient,
Ascending in his throne imperiall,
Quhose bricht and beriall[561] bemes resplendent
Illumynit all on-to the Occident,
Confortand everye corporall creature
Quhilk formit war in erth be dame Nature;

Quhose donke impurpurit[562] vestiment nocturnall,
With his imbroudit[563] mantyll matutyne,
He lefte in-tyll his regioun aurorall,
Quhilk on hym waitit quhen he did declyne
Towarte his Occident palyce vespertyne,
And rose in habyte gaye and glorious,
Brychtar nor gold or stonis precious.

Bot Synthea, the hornit nychtis quene,
Scho loste hir lychte and lede ane lawar saill,
Frome tyme hir soverane lorde that scho had sene,
And in his presens waxit dirk[564] and paill,
And ouer hir visage kest are mistye vaill;
So did Venus, the goddès amorous,
With Jupiter, Mars, and Mercurius.

Rycht so the auld intoxicat Saturne,
Persaving Phebus powir, his beymes brycht,
Abufe the erth than maid he no sudgeourne[565],
Bot suddandlye did lose his borrowit lycht,
Quhilk he durst never schaw bot on the nycht.
The Pole Artick, Ursis, and Sterris all
Quhilk situate ar in the Septentrionall,

Tyll errand[566] schyppis quhilks ar the souer gyde[567],
Convoyand thame upone the stormye nycht,
Within thare frostie circle did thame hyde.
Howbeit that sterris have none uthir lycht
Bot the reflex of Phebus bemes brycht.
That day durst none in-to the hevin appeir
Till he had circuit all our Hemispheir.

Me-thocht it was ane sycht celestiall
To sene Phebus so angellyke ascend
In-tyll his fyrie chariot triumphall,
Quhose bewtie brychte I culd nocht comprehend.
All warldlie cure[568] anone did fro me wend
Quhen fresche Flora spred furth hir tapestrie,
Wrocht be dame Nature, quent and curiouslie

Depaynt with mony hundreth hevinlie hewis;
Glaid of the rysing of thair royall Roye,
With blomes breckand[569] on the tender bewis[570],
Quhilk did provoke myne hart tyl natural joye.
Neptune that day, and Eoll[571], held thame coye,
That men on far mycht heir the birdis sounde,
Quhose noyis did to the sterrye hevin redounde.

The plesand powne prunyeand his feddrem fair[572],
The myrthfull maves[573] maid gret melodie,
The lustye[574] lark ascending in the air,
Numerand his naturall notis craftelye,
The gay goldspink, the merll rycht myrralye,
The noyis of the nobyll nychtingalis
Redoundit throuch the montans, meids, and valis.

Contempling this melodious armonye,
Quhow everilke bird drest thame for tyl advance,
To saluss[575] Nature with thare melodye,
That I stude gasing, halfingis[576] in ane trance,
To heir thame mak thare naturall observance
So royallie that all the roches[577] rang
Throuch repurcussioun of thair suggurit sang.

[556] each.

[557] fared.

[558] describe.

[559] fell.

[560] twigs.

[561] beryl.

[562] moist empurpled.

[563] embroidered.

[564] dark.

[565] sojourn.

[566] wandering.

[567] sure guide.

[568] care.

[569] breaking forth.

[570] boughs.

[571] Æolus.

[572] peacock pruning his feathers fair.

[573] thrush.

[574] pleasant.

[575] salute.

[576] partly.

[577] rocks.

JOHN BELLENDEN.[578]

Last in the list of makars enumerated by Lyndsay in the prologue to his “Complaynt of the Papyngo” is mentioned “ane plant of poeitis, callit Ballendyne,” who seems to have excited both respect and anticipation among his early contemporaries. The prophecy of Lyndsay’s lines appears to have been more than fulfilled. The new makar of 1530, having gained the ear of the court, not only wrote poems which, whether they excelled those of his rivals or not, have at least outlived most of them, but produced works in prose regarding which a critic of the first rank has said, “No better specimen of the middle period (of the Scottish language) in its classical purity exists.”[579]

[578] The name is spelt variously, Ballantyne, Ballenden, Bellendyne, &c.

[579] Murray’s _Dialects of the Southern Counties of Scotland_, p. 61.

Some obscurity has been cast upon the life of this scholar and poet by confusing him with an eminent contemporary of the same name, Sir John Bellenden of Auchinoul. The latter was secretary to the Earl of Angus at the time of that nobleman’s downfall in 1528, appearing twice before parliament as agent for the Douglases on the 4th of September. Some time afterwards he became Justice-Clerk.[580] These functions of Bellenden the lawyer have been attributed, however incongruously, to Bellenden the churchman, and have again and again led to a hopeless confusion of parentage and other details. As a matter of fact the Justice-Clerk seems to have survived the poet by more than twenty-seven years.[581]

[580] According to Hume’s _History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus_, p. 258.

[581] In the appendix to Scotstarvet’s _History_ Sir John Bellenden is stated to have been Justice-Clerk from 1547 till 1578.

Of the poet’s life few facts are known with certainty. Born towards the close of the fifteenth century, he is believed to have been a native of Haddingtonshire, and to have entered St. Andrew’s University in 1508. At least the matriculation of one John Ballentyn of the Lothian nation is recorded in that year. He completed his education at the University of Paris, where he took the degree of Doctor of Divinity. From the fourth stanza of his proheme to the Cosmographé, and from the prose epistle to James V. at the close of his translation of Boece’s _History_, it is gathered that, returning to this country, he was employed at court during that monarch’s youth as Clerk of Accounts, but was presently cast from his post by certain court intrigues. His loss of place probably coincided with that of Sir David Lyndsay, and was probably owed to the same cause, the seizure of power by the Douglases in 1524. It seems clear, moreover, that it was upon the downfall of that house that he returned to court favour; and circumstances would lead to the belief that he was among those for whom James, mindful of early services, made provision shortly after his accession to power in 1528. At anyrate, in 1530 and the three following years Bellenden was engaged by express command of James in translating the histories of his contemporary Boece and of Livy. The Treasurer’s accounts from October 30th, 1530, to November 30th, 1533, contain notes of payment for this work. In all, he received during that time the sum of £114; £78 being for the translation of Boece, and £36 for that of Livy.

A year or two later, during the vacancy of the bishopric of Moray, the archdeaconry of that see also became vacant, and its gift in consequence fell to the crown. Two clergymen, however, John Duncan, parson of Glasgow, and Alexander Harvey, solicited the Pope to confer the benefice upon James Douglas. For this they were brought to trial, and, by the statutes under which Gavin Douglas had suffered, were declared rebels, and had their property escheated to the king. The emoluments of this property for the years 1536 and 1537 were conferred successively upon Bellenden, who for the two years’ income paid compositions respectively of 350 marks and £300 Scots. About the same time, it is believed, occurred his promotion to the archdeaconry itself, and his appointment as a canon of Ross.

Little more is known of the poet’s life. A strenuous opponent of the new heresy, as the movement of the Reformation was called, he appears to have done all in his power to resist its progress, and at last, finding his utmost efforts in this direction vain, to have betaken himself to the headquarters of counsel at Rome, where he died in 1550.[582]

[582] Dr. Irving quotes the statements of Conn, Bale, and Dempster respectively for these three facts. But both the date and place remain, as he remarks, uncertain; and by some, as by Sibbald in his _Chronicle of Scottish Poetry_, Bellenden is stated to have died at Paris.

The catalogue of Bellenden’s works, though important in more than one detail, is not of great length. He is said to have written a treatise, _De Litera Pythagoræ_--the letter _upsilon_, in the form of which Pythagoras had chosen to see certain emblematical properties. Of this treatise nothing is now known. It is to his translations of Boece and Livy that the Archdeacon of Moray owes his chief fame. The first edition of the Latin _History of Scotland_ by Hector Boece, consisting of seventeen books, had been printed at Paris in 1526, and dedicated to James V.[583] That king’s knowledge of Latin must have been strictly limited, as we know from Lyndsay he was withdrawn from school at twelve years of age. His desire, therefore, for a translation into the vernacular may be understood. Bellenden’s translation, with Boece’s “cosmographé,” or description of Scotland, prefixed, was published at Edinburgh in 1541,[584] and has the credit of being the earliest existing prose work in the Scottish language. The translator divided Boece’s books into chapters, and, from a reference in his proheme, apparently meant to bring the history down to his own time. As a translation the work is somewhat free, Bellenden having taken the liberty of correcting errors and supplying omissions where he thought right. Nevertheless it soon became the standard translation of the historian, and was the version which, with interpolations from the histories of Major, Lesley, and Buchanan, was used by Hollinshed, being the direct channel, therefore, through which Shakespeare derived the story of Macbeth. As a contribution to literature it remains the earliest and the most ample specimen we possess of Scottish prose. “Rich,” as its latest editor has said, “in barbaric pearl and gold,” while “the rust of age has not obscured the fancy and imagery with which the work abounds,” it affords an admirable illustration of the force and variety of the language in which it was written.

[583] Hector Boece, born 1465-66, was Principal of King’s College, Aberdeen, then newly founded by Bishop Elphinstone; and he died Rector of Tyrie in Buchan, in 1536. The second edition of his _History_ was not published till 1574. It included the eighteenth and part of the nineteenth book by Boece, and a continuation to the end of the reign of James III. by the celebrated scholar Ferrerius.

[584] On the title page the translator is styled “Archdene of Murray and Chanon of Rosse,” and, as Irving points out, he was not in possession of these titles at the time of purchasing escheat in 1538. The date of 1536 sometimes assigned to this edition is probably therefore a mistake. Only two copies of the edition are now known to exist.

At the end of his translation Bellenden appended an epistle to the king--one of these sound, if somewhat plain, admonitions which his courtiers apparently did not scruple to address to James the Fifth. It deals boldly with the distinction between a king and a tyrant, and does not hesitate to hold up by way of example the fate which has constantly overtaken the wickedness of princes.

The best edition of Bellenden’s Boece is that edited, with a biographical introduction by Thomas Maitland, Lord Dundrennan, and published at Edinburgh in two volumes, quarto, in 1821. The only edition of the Livy is one by the same editor, printed in 1822 from a manuscript in the Advocates’ Library. The translation extends only to the first five books of the original, though it was Bellenden’s intention to furnish a complete version of his author. The work actually done is characterised, like the translation of Boece, by great fluency and vividness, and a natural happiness of style.

But it is to Bellenden’s work as a poet that the chief consideration is here due. To each of his three translations he prefixed a poetical proheme, or preface, of some length; before the title-page of his Boece appears a quaint “Excusation of the Prentar” which must be attributed to him; and a separate poem of twenty-two stanzas by him, entitled “The Benner of Pietie, concerning the Incarnatioun of our Saluiour Chryst,” forms one of the duplicate articles in the Bannatyne MS., printed by the Hunterian Club, 1878-86.[585] These five compositions represent his entire poetical achievement so far as is known. Though printed each in its due place, as above indicated, they have never been collected in a single volume.[586]

[585] This MS., by the older writers on Bellenden, is called sometimes the “Carmichael Collection,” from the name of the owner who lent it to Allan Ramsay, sometimes the “Hyndford MS.,” from John, third Earl of Hyndford, who presented it to the Advocates’ Library. This difference of appellation has not lessened the confusion hitherto involving the poet and his work.

[586] The prohemes from the translation of Boece, after being copied in part by Bannatyne in his MS., were included in Ramsay’s _Evergreen_ and in Sibbald’s _Chronicle of Scottish Poetry_. The prologue to Livy was printed first by Dr. Leyden in the dissertation prefixed to his edition of _The Complaynt of Scotland_.

Bellenden’s chief poem is the proheme to the cosmographé prefixed to his translation of Boece. It bears no real relation to the work which it precedes, and is believed to have been written before 1530. Modelled upon the classical allegory of the “Choice of Hercules,” it is addressed to James V., and with great tact seeks to convey a somewhat pertinent moral lesson to that youthful monarch. The original title of the composition is understood to have been “Virtew and Vyce”; and after the poetic fashion of its time the allegory is cast in form of a dream. It describes the wooing of a handsome young prince, whose personality can hardly be mistaken, by two lovely and splendidly attired ladies, Delight and Virtue. With quaint shrewdness the poet contrives to awaken at the proper moment, saving himself the invidious task of describing the prince’s choice.

The proheme to the history is a graver and less poetical production, though bearing a closer relation to the work which follows. The chief object of history, it declares in effect, is to set forth the noble deeds of the past as an example to the present--a task performed with great array of classic information. The most striking passage of the poem is the descant on nobility, which occupies nine out of the twenty-nine stanzas. Some of the lines in this have all the incisiveness of the clearest-cut aphorism.

Somewhat the same theory of history forms the burden of the prologue to Livy. The chief interest of this piece consists, perhaps, as Lord Dundrennan pointed out, in its representation of James V. as a patron of literature. The opening stanzas, however, are not without a certain warlike resonance suited to a prelude of Roman deeds of arms.