Chapter VI (1)

Hail, mother; hail, maiden; hail, heaven queen;
Hail, gatus of paradise;
Hail, star of the sea that ever is seen;
Hail, rich, royal, and righteous;
Hail, burde yblessed may you bene;
Hail, pearl of all perrie the pris;
Hail, shadow in each a shower shene;
Hail, fairer than that fleur-de-lis,
Hail, chere chosen that never n'as chis;
Hail, chief chamber of charity;
Hail, in woe that ever was wis:
_You pray for us thy Sone so free!_ AVE, &c. &c.

[1] 'Botenere:' helper.

ADVERTISEMENT.

It will be observed that, in the specimens given of the earlier poets, the spelling has been modernised on the principle which has been so generally approved in its application to the text of Chaucer and of Spenser.

On a further examination of the material for 'Specimens and Memoirs of the less-known British Poets,' it has been deemed advisable to devote three volumes to this _resume_, and merely to give extracts from Cowley, instead of following out the arrangement proposed when the issue for this year was announced. In this space it has been found possible to present the reader with specimens of almost all those authors whose writings were at any period esteemed. The series will thus be rendered more perfect, and will include the complete works of the authors whose entire writings are by a general verdict regarded as worthy of preservation; together with representations of the style, and brief notices of the poets who have, during the progress of our literature, occupied a certain rank, but whose popularity and importance have in a great measure passed.

It is confidently hoped that the arrangements now made will give a completeness to the First Division of the Library Edition of the British Poets--from Chaucer to Cowper--which will be acceptable and satisfactory to the general reader.

Edinburgh, July 1860.

CONTENTS.

* * * * *

FIRST PERIOD.

JOHN GOWER
The Chariot of the Sun
The Tale of the Coffers or Caskets, &c.
Of the Gratification which the Lover's Passion receives from
the Sense of Hearing

JOHN BARBOUR
Apostrophe to Freedom
Death of Sir Henry de Bohun

ANDREW WYNTOUN

BLIND HARRY
Battle of Black-Earnside
The Death of Wallace

JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND
Description of the King's Mistress

JOHN THE CHAPLAIN--THOMAS OCCLEVE

JOHN LYDGATE
Canace, condemned to Death by her Father Aeolus, sends to her guilty
Brother Macareus the last Testimony of her unhappy Passion
The London Lyckpenny

HARDING, KAY, &c.

ROBERT HENRYSON
Dinner given by the Town Mouse to the Country Mouse
The Garment of Good Ladies

WILLIAM DUNBAR
The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins through Hell
The Merle and Nightingale

GAVIN DOUGLAS
Morning in May

HAWES, BARCLAY, &c.

SKELTON
To Miss Margaret Hussey

SIR DAVID LYNDSAY
Meldrum's Duel with the English Champion Talbart
Supplication in Contemption of Side Tails

THOMAS TUSSER
Directions for Cultivating a Hop-garden
Housewifely Physic
Moral Reflections on the Wind

VAUX, EDWARDS, &c.

GEORGE GASCOIGNE
Good-morrow
Good-night

THOMAS SACKVILLE, LORD BUCKHURST AND EARL OF DORSET
Allegorical Characters from 'The Mirror of Magistrates'
Henry Duke of Buckingham in the Infernal Regions

JOHN HARRINGTON
Sonnet on Isabella Markham
Verses on a most stony-hearted Maiden

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
To Sleep
Sonnets

ROBERT SOUTHWELL
Look Home
The Image of Death
Love's Servile Lot
Times go by Turns

THOMAS WATSON
The Nymphs to their May-Queen
Sonnet

THOMAS TURBERVILLE
In praise of the renowned Lady Aime, Countess of Warwick

UNKNOWN
Harpalus' Complaint of Phillida's Love bestowed on Corin, who loved
her not, and denied him that loved her
A Praise of his Lady
That all things sometime find Ease of their Pain, save only the Lover
From 'The Phoenix' Nest'
From the same
The Soul's Errand

* * * * *

SECOND PERIOD.

FROM SPENSER TO DRYDEN.

FRANCIS BEAUMONT
To Ben Jonson
On the Tombs in Westminster
An Epitaph

SIR WALTER RALEIGH
The Country's Recreations
The Silent Lover
A Vision upon 'The Fairy Queen'
Love admits no Rival

JOSHUA SYLVESTER
To Religion
On Man's Resemblance to God
The Chariot of the Sun

RICHARD BARNFIELD
Address to the Nightingale

ALEXANDER HUME
Thanks for a Summer's Day

OTHER SCOTTISH POETS

SAMUEL DANIEL
Richard II., the morning before his Murder in Pomfret Castle
Early Love
Selections from Sonnets

SIR JOHN DAVIES
Introduction to the Poem on the Soul of Man
The Self-subsistence of the Soul
Spirituality of the Soul

GILES FLETCHER
The Nativity
Song of Sorceress seeking to tempt Christ
Close of 'Christ's Victory and Triumph'

JOHN DONNE
Holy Sonnets
The Progress of the Soul

MICHAEL DRAYTON
Description of Morning

EDWARD FAIRFAX
Rinaldo at Mount Olivet

SIR HENRY WOTTON
Farewell to the Vanities of the World
A Meditation

RICHARD CORBET
Dr Corbet's Journey into France

BEN JONSON
Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke
The Picture of the Body
To Penshurst
To the Memory of my beloved Master, William Shakspeare, and what
he hath left us
On the Portrait of Shakspeare

VERE, STORBER, &c

THOMAS RANDOLPH
The Praise of Woman
To my Picture
To a Lady admiring herself in a Looking-glass

ROBERT BURTON
On Melancholy

THOMAS CAREW
Persuasions to Love
Song
To my Mistress sitting by a River's Side
Song
A Pastoral Dialogue
Song

SIR JOHN SUCKLING
Song
A Ballad upon a Wedding
Song

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT
Love's Darts
On the Death of Sir Bevil Grenville
A Valediction

WILLIAM BROWNE
Song
Song
Power of Genius over Envy
Evening
From 'Britannia's Pastorals'
A Descriptive Sketch

WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF STIRLING
Sonnet

WILLIAM DRUMMOND
The River of Forth Feasting
Sonnets
Spiritual Poems

PHINEAS FLETCHER
Description of Parthenia
Instability of Human Greatness
Happiness of the Shepherd's Life
Marriage of Christ and the Church

* * * * *

SPECIMENS, WITH MEMOIRS, OF THE LESS-KNOWN BRITISH POETS.

JOHN GOWER

Very little is told us (as usual in the beginnings of a literature) of the life and private history of Gower, and that little is not specially authentic or clearly consistent with itself. His life consists mainly of a series of suppositions, with one or two firm facts between--like a few stepping-stones insulated in wide spaces of water. He is said to have been born about the year 1325, and if so must have been a few years older than Chaucer; whom he, however, outlived. He was a friend as well as contemporary of that great poet, who, in the fifth book of his 'Troilus and Cresseide,' thus addresses him:--

'O moral Gower, this booke I direct,
To thee and the philosophical Strood,
To vouchsafe where need is to correct,
Of your benignities and zeales good.'

Gower, on the other hand, in his 'Confessio Amantis,' through the mouth of Venus, speaks as follows of Chaucer:--

'And greet well Chaucer when ye meet,
As my disciple and my poet;
For 'in the flower of his youth,
In sundry wise, as he well couth,
Of ditties and of songes glad,
The whiche for my sake he made,
The laud fulfill'd is over all,' &c.

The place of Gower's birth has been the subject of much controversy. Caxton asserts that he was a native of Wales. Leland, Bales, Pits, Hollingshed, and Edmondson contend, on the other hand, that he belonged to the Statenham family, in Yorkshire. In proof of this, a deed is appealed to, which is preserved among the ancient records of the Marquis of Stafford. To this deed, of which the local date is Statenham, and the chronological 1346, one of the subscribing witnesses is _John Gower_ who on the back of the deed is stated, in the handwriting of at least a century later, to be '_Sr John Gower the Poet_'. Whatever may be thought of this piece of evidence, 'the proud tradition,' adds Todd, who had produced it, 'in the Marquis of Stafford's family has been, and still is, that the poet was of Statenham; and who would not consider the dignity of his genealogy augmented by enrolling among its worthies the moral Gower?'

From his will we know that he possessed the manor of Southwell, in the county of Nottingham, and that of Multon, in the county of Suffolk. He was thus a rich man, as well as probably a knight. The latter fact is inferred from the circumstance of his effigies in the church of St Mary Overies wearing a chaplet of roses, such as, says Francis Thynne, 'the knyghtes in old time used, either of gold or other embroiderye, made after the fashion of roses, one of the peculiar ornamentes of a knighte, as well as his collar of S.S.S., his guilte sword and spurres. Which chaplett or circle of roses was as well attributed to knyghtes, the lowest degree of honor, as to the higher degrees of duke, erle, &c., being knyghtes, for so I have seen John of Gaunte pictured in his chaplett of roses; and King, Edwarde the Thirde gave his chaplett to Eustace Rybamonte; only the difference was, that as they were of lower degree, so had they fewer roses placed on their chaplett or cyrcle of golde, one ornament deduced from the dukes crowne, which had the roses upon the top of the cyrcle, when the knights had them only upon the cyrcle or garlande itself.'

It has been said that Gower as well as Chaucer studied in the Temple. This, however, Thynne doubts, on the ground that 'it is most certeyn to be gathered by cyrcumstances of recordes that the lawyers were not in the Temple until towardes the latter parte of the reygne of Kinge Edwarde the Thirde, at whiche tyme Chaucer was a grave manne, holden in greate credyt and employed in embassye;' and when, of course, Gower, being his senior, must have been 'graver' still.

There is scarcely anything more to relate of the personal career of our poet. In his elder days he became attached to the House of Lancaster, under Thomas of Woodstock, as Chaucer did under John of Gaunt. It is said that the two poets, who had been warm friends, at last quarrelled, but obscurity rests on the cause, the circumstances, the duration, and the consequences of the dispute. Gower, like some far greater bards, --Milton for instance, and those whom Milton has commemorated,

'Blind Thamyris and blind Moeonides,
And Tiresiaa and Phineus, prophets old,'--

was sometime ere his death deprived of his sight, as we know on his own authority. It appears from his will that he was still living in 1408, having outlived Chaucer eight years. This will is a curious document. It is that of a very rich and very superstitious Catholic, who leaves bequests to churches, hospitals, to priors, sub-priors, and priests, with the significant request '_ut orent pro me_'--a request which, for the sake of the poor soul of the 'moral Gower,' was we trust devoutly obeyed, although we are irresistibly reminded of the old rhyme,

'Pray for the soul of Gabriel John,
Who died in the year one thousand and one;
You may if you please, or let it alone,
For it's all one
To Gabriel John,
Who died in the year one thousand and one.'

There is no mention of children in the will, and hence the assertion of Edmondson, who, in his genealogical table of the Statenham family, says that Thomas Gower, the governor of the castle of Mans in the times of the Fifth and Sixth Henrys, was the only son of the poet, and that of Glover, who, in his 'Visitation of Yorkshire,' describes Gower as married to a lady named Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Edward Sadbowrughe, Baron of the Exchequer, by whom he had five sons and three daughters, must both fall to the ground. According to the will, Gower's wife's name was Agnes, and he leaves to her L100 in legacy, besides his valuable goods and the rents accruing from his aforesaid manors of Multon, in Suffolk, and Southwell, in Nottinghamshire. His body was, according to his own direction, buried in the monastery of St Mary Overies, in Southwark, (afterwards the church of St Saviour,) where a monument, and an effigies, too, were erected, with the roses of a knight girdling the brow of one who was unquestionably a true, if not a great poet.

In Warton's 'History of English Poetry,' and in the 'Illustrations of the Lives and Writings of Gower and Chaucer' by Mr Todd, there will be found ample and curious details about MS. poems by Gower, such as fifty sonnets in French; a 'Panegyrick on Henry IV.,' half in Latin and half in English, a short elegiac poem on the same subject, &c.; besides a large work, entitled 'Speculum Meditantis,' a poem in French of a moral cast; and 'Vox Clamantis,' consisting of seven books of Latin elegiacs, and chiefly filled with a metrical account of the insurrections of the Commons in the reign of Richard II. In the dedication of this latter work to Arundel, Archbishop of Canterbury, Gower speaks of his blindness and his age. He says, 'Hanc epistolam subscriptam corde devoto misit _senex et cecus_ Johannes Gower reverendissimo in Christo patri ac domino suo precipuo domino Thome de Arundell, Cantuar. Archiepoe.' &c. Warton proves that the 'Vox Clamantis' was written in the year 1397, by a line in the Bodleian manuscript of the poem, 'Hos ego _bis deno_ Ricardo regis in anno.' Richard II. began, it is well known, to reign in the year 1377, when ten years of age, and, of course, the year 1397 was the twentieth of his reign. It follows from this, that for eleven years at least before his death Gower had been _senex et cecus_, helpless through old age and blindness.

The 'Confessio Amantis' is the only work of Gower's which is printed and in English. The rest are still slumbering in MS.; and even although the 'Vox Clamantis' should put in a sleepy plea for the resurrection of print, on the whole we are disposed to say, better for all parties that it and the rest should slumber on. But the 'Confessio Amantis' is altogether a remarkable production. It is said to have been written at the command of Richard II., who, meeting our poet rowing on the Thames, near London, took him on board the royal barge, and requested him to _book some new thing_. It is an English poem, in eight books, and was first printed by Caxton in the year 1483. The 'Speculum Meditantis,' 'Vox Clamantis,' and 'Confessio Amantis,' are, properly speaking, parts of one great work, and are represented by three volumes upon Gower's curious tomb in the old conventual church of St Mary Overies already alluded to--a church, by the way, which the poet himself assisted in rebuilding in the elegant shape which it retains to this day.

The 'Confessio' is a large unwieldy collection of poetry and prose, superstition and science, love and religion, allegory and historical facts. It is crammed with all varieties of learning, and a perverse but infinite ingenuity is shewn in the arrangement of its heterogeneous materials. In one book the whole mysteries of the Hermetic philosophy are expounded, and the wonders of alchymy dazzle us in every page. In another, the poet scales the heights and sounds the depths of Aristotelianism. From this we have extracted in the 'Specimens' a glowing account of 'The Chariot of the Sun.' Throughout the work, tales and stories of every description and degree of merit are interspersed. These are principally derived from an old book called 'Pantheon; or, Memoriae Seculorum,'--a kind of universal history, more studious of effect than accuracy, in which the author ranges over the whole history of the world, from the creation down to the year 1186. This was a specimen of a kind of writing in which the Middle Ages abounded--namely, chronicles, which gradually superseded the monkish legends, and for a time eclipsed the classics themselves; a kind of writing hovering between history and fiction, embracing the widest sweep, written in a barbarous style, and swarming with falsehoods; but exciting, interesting, and often instructive, and tending to kindle curiosity, and create in the minds of their readers a love for literature.

Besides chronicles, Gower had read many romances, and alludes to them in various parts of his works. His 'Confessio Amantis' was apparently written after Chaucer's 'Troilus and Cresseide,' and after 'The Flower and the Leaf,' inasmuch as he speaks of the one and imitates the other in that poem. That Chaucer had not, however, yet composed his 'Testament of Love,' appears from the epilogue to the 'Confessio,' where Gower is ordered by Venus, who expresses admiration of Chaucer for the early devotion of his muse to her service, to say to him at the close--

'Forthy, now in his daies old,
Thou shalt him tell this message,
That he upon his later age
To set an end of all his work,
As he which is mine owen clerk,
Do make his Testament of Love,
As thou hast done thy shrift above,
So that my court it may record'--

the 'shrift' being of course the 'Confessio Amantis.' In 'The Canterbury Tales' there are several indications that Chaucer was indebted to Gower --'The Man of Law's Tale' being borrowed from Gower's 'Constantia,' and 'The Wife of Bath's Tale' being founded on Gower's 'Florent.'

After all, Gower cannot be classed with the greater bards. He sparkles brightly chiefly from the depth of the darkness through which he shines. He is more remarkable for extent than for depth, for solidity than for splendour, for fuel than for fire, for learning than for genius.

THE CHARIOT OF THE SUN.

Of golde glist'ring spoke and wheel The Sun his cart hath fair and wele, In which he sitteth, and is croned[1] With bright stones environed: Of which if that I speake shall, There be before in special Set in the front of his corone Three stones, whiche no person Hath upon earth; and the first is By name cleped Leucachatis. That other two cleped thus Astroites and Ceraunus; In his corone, and also behind, By olde bookes as I find, There be of worthy stones three, Set each of them in his degree. Whereof a crystal is that one, Which that corone is set upon: The second is an adamant: The third is noble and evenant, Which cleped is Idriades. And over this yet natheless, Upon the sides of the werk, After the writing of the clerk, There sitten five stones mo.[2] The Smaragdine is one of tho,[3] Jaspis, and Eltropius, And Vendides, and Jacinctus. Lo thus the corone is beset, Whereof it shineth well the bet.[4] And in such wise his light to spread, Sits with his diadem on head, The Sunne shining in his cart: And for to lead him swith[5] and smart, After the bright daye's law, There be ordained for to draw, Four horse his chare, and him withal, Whereof the names tell I shall. Eritheus the first is hote,[6] The which is red, and shineth hot; The second Acteos the bright; Lampes the thirde courser hight; And Philogens is the ferth, That bringen light unto this earth, And go so swift upon the heaven, In four and twenty houres even, The carte with the brighte sun They drawen, so that over run They have under the circles high, All midde earth in such an hie.[7]

And thus the sun is over all The chief planet imperial, Above him and beneath him three. And thus between them runneth he, As he that hath the middle place Among the seven: and of his face Be glad all earthly creatures, And taken after the natures Their ease and recreation. And in his constellation Who that is born in special, Of good-will and of liberal He shall be found in alle place, And also stand in muchel grace Toward the lordes for to serve, And great profit and thank deserve.

And over that it causeth yet A man to be subtil of wit, To work in gold, and to be wise In everything, which is of prise.[8] But for to speaken in what coast Of all this earth he reigneth most, As for wisdom it is in Greece, Where is appropred thilk spece.[9]

[1] 'Croned:' crowned. [2] 'Mo:' more. [3] 'Tho:' those. [4] 'Bet:' better. [5] 'Swith:' swift. [6] 'Hot:' named. [7] 'Hie:' haste. [8] 'Prise:' value. [9] 'Thilk spece:' that kind.

THE TALE OF THE COFFERS OR CASKETS, &c.

In a chronique thus I read: About a kinge, as must need, There was of knightes and squiers Great rout, and eke officers: Some of long time him had served, And thoughten that they have deserved Advancement, and gone without: And some also been of the rout, That comen but a while agon, And they advanced were anon.

These olde men upon this thing, So as they durst, against the king Among themselves complainen oft: But there is nothing said so soft, That it ne cometh out at last: The king it wist, anon as fast, As he which was of high prudence: He shope[1] therefore an evidence Of them that 'plainen in the case To know in whose default it was: And all within his own intent, That none more wiste what it meant. Anon he let two coffers make, Of one semblance, and of one make, So like, that no life thilke throw,[2] The one may from that other know: They were into his chamber brought, But no man wot why they be wrought, And natheless the king hath bede That they be set in privy stede,[3] As he that was of wisdom sly; When he thereto his time sih,[4] All privily that none it wist, His owne handes that one chest Of fine gold, and of fine perrie,[5] The which out of his treasury Was take, anon he filled full; That other coffer of straw and mull,[6] With stones meynd[7] he fill'd also: Thus be they full bothe two. So that erliche[8] upon a day He bade within, where he lay, There should be before his bed A board up set and faire spread: And then he let the coffers fet[9] Upon the board, and did them set, He knew the names well of tho,[10] The which against him grutched[11] so, Both of his chamber, and of his hall, Anon and sent for them all; And saide to them in this wise:

'There shall no man his hap despise: I wot well ye have longe served, And God wot what ye have deserved; But if it is along[12] on me Of that ye unadvanced be, Or else if it be long on yow, The soothe shall be proved now: To stoppe with your evil word, Lo! here two coffers on the board; Choose which you list of bothe two; And witteth well that one of tho Is with treasure so full begon, That if he happe thereupon Ye shall be riche men for ever: Now choose and take which you is lever,[13] But be well 'ware ere that ye take, For of that one I undertake There is no manner good therein, Whereof ye mighten profit win. Now go together of one assent, And taketh your advisement; For but I you this day advance, It stands upon your owne chance, All only in default of grace; So shall be shewed in this place Upon you all well afine,[14] That no defaulte shall be mine.'

They kneelen all, and with one voice The king they thanken of this choice: And after that they up arise, And go aside and them advise, And at laste they accord (Whereof their tale to record To what issue they be fall) A knight shall speake for them all: He kneeleth down unto the king, And saith that they upon this thing, Or for to win, or for to lose, Be all advised for to choose.

Then took this knight a yard[15] in hand, And go'th there as the coffers stand, And with assent of every one He lay'th his yarde upon one, And saith the king[16] how thilke same They chose in reguerdon[17] by name, And pray'th him that they might it have.

The king, which would his honour save, When he had heard the common voice, Hath granted them their owne choice, And took them thereupon the key; But for he woulde it were see What good they have as they suppose, He bade anon the coffer unclose, Which was fulfill'd with straw and stones: Thus be they served all at ones.

This king then in the same stede, Anon that other coffer undede, Where as they sawen great riches, Well more than they couthen [18] guess.

'Lo!' saith the king, 'now may ye see That there is no default in me; Forthy[19] myself I will acquite, And beareth ye your owne wite[20] Of that fortune hath you refused.'

Thus was this wise king excused: And they left off their evil speech. And mercy of their king beseech.

[1] 'Shope:' contrived. [2] 'Thilke throw:' at that time. [3] 'Stede:' place. [4] 'Sih:' saw. [5] 'Perrie:' precious stones. [6] 'Mull:' rubbish. [7] 'Meynd:' mingled. [8] 'Erlich:' early. [9] 'Fet:' fetched. [10] 'Tho:' those. [11] 'Grutched:' murmured. [12] 'Along:' because of. [13] 'Lever:' preferable. [14] 'Afine:' at last. [15] 'Yard:' rod. [16] 'Saith the king:' saith to the king. [17] 'Reguerdon:' as their reward. [18] 'Couthen:' could. [19] 'Forthy:' therefore. [20] 'Wite:' blame.

OF THE GRATIFICATION WHICH THE LOVERS PASSION RECEIVES FROM THE SENSE OF HEARING.

Right as mine eye with his look Is to mine heart a lusty cook Of love's foode delicate; Right so mine ear in his estate, Where as mine eye may nought serve, Can well mine hearte's thank deserve; And feeden him, from day to day, With such dainties as he may.

For thus it is that, over all Where as I come in special, I may hear of my lady price:[1] I hear one say that she is wise; Another saith that she is good; And some men say of worthy blood That she is come; and is also So fair that nowhere is none so: And some men praise her goodly chere.[2] Thus everything that I may hear, Which soundeth to my lady good, Is to mine ear a lusty food. And eke mine ear hath, over this, A dainty feaste when so is That I may hear herselve speak; For then anon my fast I break On suche wordes as she saith, That full of truth and full of faith They be, and of so good disport, That to mine eare great comfort They do, as they that be delices For all the meats, and all the spices, That any Lombard couthe[3] make, Nor be so lusty for to take, Nor so far forth restoratif, (I say as for mine owne life,) As be the wordes of her mouth For as the windes of the south Be most of alle debonaire;[4] So, when her list to speake fair, The virtue of her goodly speech Is verily mine hearte's leech.

And if it so befall among, That she carol upon a song, When I it hear, I am so fed, That I am from myself so led As though I were in Paradise; For, certes, as to mine avis,[5] When I hear of her voice the steven,[6] Methink'th it is a bliss of heaven.

And eke in other wise also, Full ofte time it falleth so, Mine care with a good pitance[7] Is fed of reading of romance Of Ydoine and of Amadas, That whilom weren in my case; And eke of other many a score, That loveden long ere I was bore. For when I of their loves read, Mine eare with the tale I feed, And with the lust of their histoire Sometime I draw into memoire, How sorrow may not ever last; And so hope cometh in at last.

[1] 'Price:' praise. [2] 'Chere:' mien. [3] 'Couthe:' knows to. [4] 'Debonaire:' gentle. [5] 'Avis:' opinion. [6] 'Steven:' sound. [7] 'Pitance:' allowance.

JOHN BARBOUR.

The facts known about this Scottish poet are only the following. He seems to have been born about the year 1316, in, probably, the city of Aberdeen. This is stated by Hume of Godscroft, by Dr Mackenzie, and others, but is not thoroughly authenticated. Some think he was the son of one Andrew Barbour, who possessed a tenement in Castle Street, Aberdeen; and others, that he was related to one Robert Barbour, who, in 1309, received a charter of the lands of Craigie, in Forfarshire, from King Robert the Bruce. These, however, are mere conjectures, founded upon a similarity of name. It is clear, from Barbour's after rank in the Church, that he had received a learned education, but whether in Arbroath or Aberdeen is uncertain. We know, however, that a school of divinity and canon law had existed at Aberdeen since the reign of Alexander II., and it is conjectured that Barbour first studied there, and then at Oxford. In the year 1357, he was undoubtedly Archdeacon of Aberdeen, since we find him, under this title, nominated by the Bishop of that diocese, one of the Commissioners appointed to meet in Edinburgh to take measures to liberate King David, who had been captured at the battle of Nevil's Cross, and detained from that date in England. It seems evident, from the customs of the Roman Catholic Church, that he must have been at least forty when he was created Archdeacon, and this is a good reason for fixing his birth in the year 1316.

In the same year, Barbour obtained permission from Edward III., at the request of the Scottish King, to travel through England with three scholars who were to study at Oxford, probably at Balliol College, which had, a hundred years nearly before, been founded and endowed by the wife of the famous John Balliol of Scotland. Some years afterwards, in November 1364, he got permission to pass, accompanied by four horsemen, through England, to pursue his studies at the same renowned university. In the year 1365, we find another casual notice of our Scottish bard. A passport has been found giving him permission from the King of England to travel, in company with six horsemen, through that country on their way to St Denis', and other sacred places. It is evident that this was a religious pilgrimage on the part of Barbour and his companions.

A most peripatetic poet; verily, he must have been; for we find another safe-conduct, dated November 1368, granted by Edward to Barbour, permitting him, to pass through England, with two servants and their horses, on his way to France, for the purpose of pursuing his studies there. Dr Jamieson (see his 'Life of Barbour') discovers the poet's name in the list of Auditors of the Exchequer.

Barbour has himself told us that he commenced his poem in the 'yer of grace, a thousand thre hundyr sevynty and five,' when, of course, he was in his sixtieth year, or, as he says, 'off hys eld sexty.' It is supposed that David II.--who died in 1370--had urged Barbour to engage in the work, which was not, however, completed till the fifth year of his successor, Robert II., who gave our poet a pension on account of it. This consisted of a sum of ten pounds Scots from the revenues of the city of Aberdeen, and twenty shillings from the burgh mails. Mr James Bruce, to whose interesting Life of Barbour, in his 'Eminent Men of Aberdeen,' we are indebted for many of the facts in this narrative, says, 'The latter of these sums was granted to him, not merely during his own life, but to his assignees; and the Archdeacon bequeathed it to the dean, canons, the chapter, and other ministers of the Cathedral of Aberdeen, on condition that they should for ever celebrate a yearly mass for his soul. At the Reformation, when it came to be discovered that masses did no good to souls in the other world, it is probable that this endowment reverted to the Crown.'

Barbour also wrote a poem under what seems now the strange title, 'The Brute.' This was in reality a metrical history of Scotland, commencing with the fables concerning Brutus, or 'Brute,' who, according to ancient legends, was the great-grandson of Aeneas--came over from Italy, the land of his birth--landed at Totness, in Devonshire--destroyed the giants who then inhabited Albion--called the island 'Britain' from his own name, and became its first monarch. From this original fable, Barbour is supposed to have wandered on through a hundred succeeding stories of similar value, till he came down to his own day. There can be little regret felt, therefore, that the book is totally lost. Wynton, in his 'Chronicle,' refers to it in commendatory terms; but it cannot be ascertained from his notices whether it was composed in Scotch or in Latin.

Barbour died about the beginning of the year 1396, eighty years of age. Lord Hailes ascertained the time of his death from the Chartulary of Aberdeen, where, under the date of 10th August 1398, mention is made of 'quondam Joh. Barber, Archidiaconus, Aberd., and where it is said that he had died two years and a half before, namely, in 1396.'

His great work, 'The Bruce,' or more fully, 'The History of Robert Bruce, King of the Scots,' does not appear to have been printed till 1616 in Edinburgh. Between that date and the year 1790, when Pinkerton's edition appeared, no less than twenty impressions were published, (the principal being those of Edinburgh in 1620 and 1648; Glasgow, 1665; and Edinburgh, 1670--all in black letter,) so popular immediately became the poem. Pinkerton's edition is in three volumes, and has a preface, notes, and a glossary, all of considerable value. The MS. was copied from a volume in the Advocates' Library, of the date of 1489, which was in the handwriting of one John Ramsay, believed to have been the prior of a Carthusian monastery near Perth. Pinkerton first divided 'The Bruce' into books. It had previously, like the long works of Naerius and Ennius, the earliest Roman poets, consisted of one entire piece, woven 'from the top to the bottom without seam,' like the ancient simple garments in Jewry. The late respectable and very learned Dr Jamieson, of Nicolson Street United Secession Church, Edinburgh, well known as the author of the 'Scottish Dictionary,' 'Hermes Scythicus,' &c., published, in 1820, a more accurate edition of 'The Bruce,' along with Blind Harry's 'Wallace,' in two quarto volumes.

In strict chronology Barbour belongs to an earlier date than Chaucer, having been born and having died a few years before him. But as the first Scotch poet who has written anything of length, with the exception of the author of the 'Romance of Sir Tristrem,' he claims a conspicuous place in our 'Specimens.' He was singularly fortunate in the choice of a subject. With the exception of Wallace, there is no name in Scottish history that even yet calls up prouder associations than that of Robert Bruce. The incidents in his history,--the escape he made from English bondage to rescue his country from the same yoke; his rise refulgent from the stroke which, in the cloisters of the Gray Friars, Dumfries, laid the Red Comyn low; his daring to be crowned at Scone; his frequent defeats; his lion-like retreat to the Hebrides, accompanied by one or two friends, his wife meanwhile having been carried captive, three of his brothers hanged, and himself supposed to be dead; the romantic perils he survived, and the victories he gained amidst the mountains where the deep waters of the river Awe are still telling of his name, and the echoes of Ben Cruachan repeating the immortal sound; his sudden reappearance on the west coast of Scotland, where, as he 'shook his Carrick spear,' his country rose, kindling around him like heather on flame; the awful suspense of the hour when it was announced that Edward I., the tyrant of the Ragman's Roll, the murderer of Wallace, was approaching with a mighty army to crush the revolt; the electrifying news that he had died at Sark, as if struck by the breath of the fatal Border, which he had reached, but could not overpass; the bloody summer's day of Bannockburn, in which Edward II. was repelled, and the gallant army of his father annihilated; the energy and wisdom of the Bruce's civil administration after the victory; the less famous, but noble battle of Byland, nine years after Bannockburn, in which he again smote the foes of his country; and the recognition which at last he procured, on the accession of Edward III., of the independence of Scotland in 1329, himself dying the same year, his work done and his glory for ever secured,--not to speak of the beautiful legends which have clustered round his history like ivy round an ancestral tower--of the spider on the wall, teaching him the lesson of perseverance, as he lay in the barn sad and desponding in heart--of the strange signal-light upon the shore near his maternal castle of Turnberry, which led him to land, while

'Dark red the heaven above it glow'd,
Dark red the sea beneath it flow'd,
Red rose the rocks on ocean's brim,
In blood-red light her islets swim,
Wild screams the dazzled sea-fowl gave,
Dropp'd from their crags a plashing wave,
The deer to distant covert drew,
The blackcock deem'd it day, and crew;'

and last, not least, the adventures of his gallant, unquenchable heart, when, in the hand of Douglas,--meet casket for such a gem!--it marched onwards, as it was wont to do, in conquering power, toward the Holy Land;--all this has woven a garland round the brow of Bruce which every civilised nation has delighted to honour, and given him besides a share in the affections and the pride of his own land, with the joy of which 'no stranger can intermeddle.'

Bruce has been fortunate in his laureates, consisting of three of Scotland's greatest poets,--Barbour, Scott, and Burns. The last of these has given us a glimpse of the patriot-king, revealing him on the brow of Bannockburn as by a single flash of lightning. The second has, in 'The Lord of the Isles,' seized and sung a few of the more romantic passages of his history. But Barbour has, with unwearied fidelity and no small force, described the whole incidents of Bruce's career, and reared to his memory, not an insulated column, but a broad and deep-set temple of poetry.

Barbour's poem has always been admired for its strict accuracy of statement, to which Bower, Wynton, Hailes, Pinkerton, Jamieson, and Sir Walter Scott all bear testimony; for the picturesque force of its natural descriptions; for its insight into character, and the lifelike spirit of its individual sketches; for the martial vigour of its battle- pictures; for the enthusiasm which he feels, and makes his reader feel, for the valiant and wise, the sagacious and persevering, the bold, merciful, and religious character of its hero, and for the piety which pervades it, and proves that the author was not merely a churchman in profession, but a Christian at heart. Its defects of rude rhythm, irregular constructions, and obsolete phraseology, are those of its age; but its beauties, its unflagging interest, and its fine poetic spirit, are characteristic of the writer's own genius.

APOSTROPHE TO FREEDOM.

Ah! freedom is a noble thing! Freedom makes man to have liking! Freedom all solace to man gives: He lives at ease that freely lives! A noble heart may have none ease, Nor nought else that may him please, If freedom fail; for free liking Is yearned o'er all other thing. Nay, he that aye has lived free, May not know well the property, The anger, nor the wretched doom, That is coupled to foul thirldom. But if he had assayed it, Then all perquier[1] he should it wit: And should think freedom more to prize Than all the gold in world that is.

[1] 'Perquier:' perfectly.

DEATH OF SIR HENRY DE BOHUN.

And when the king wist that they were In hale[1] battle, coming so near, His battle gart[2] he well array. He rode upon a little palfrey, Laughed and jolly, arrayand His battle, with an axe in hand. And on his bassinet he bare A hat of tyre above aye where; And, thereupon, into tok'ning, An high crown, that he was king. And when Gloster and Hereford were With their battle approaching near, Before them all there came ridand, With helm on head and spear in hand, Sir Henry the Bohun, the worthy, That was a wight knight, and a hardy, And to the Earl of Hereford cousin; Armed in armis good and fine; Came on a steed a bowshot near, Before all other that there were: And knew the king, for that he saw Him so range his men on raw,[3] And by the crown that was set Also upon his bassinet. And toward him he went in hy.[4] And the king so apertly[5] Saw him come, forouth[6] all his feres,[7] In hy till him the horse he steers. And when Sir Henry saw the king Come on, forouten[8] abasing, To him he rode in full great hy. He thought that he should well lightly Win him, and have him at his will, Since he him horsed saw so ill. Sprent they samen into a lyng;[9] Sir Henry miss'd the noble king; And he that in his stirrups stood, With the axe, that was hard and good, With so great main, raucht[10] him a dint, That neither hat nor helm might stint The heavy dush that he him gave, The head near to the harns[11] he clave. The hand-axe shaft frushit[12] in two; And he down to the yird[13] 'gan go All flatlings, for him failed might. This was the first stroke of the fight, That was performed doughtily. And when the king's men so stoutly Saw him, right at the first meeting, Forouten doubt or abasing, Have slain a knight so at a straik, Such hardment thereat 'gan they take, That they come on right hardily. When Englishmen saw them so stoutly Come on, they had great abasing; And specially for that the king So smartly that good knight has slain, That they withdrew them everilk ane, And durst not one abide to fight: So dread they for the king his might. When that the king repaired was, That gart his men all leave the chase, The lordis of his company Blamed him, as they durst, greatumly, That be him put in aventure, To meet so stith[14] a knight, and stour, In such point as he then was seen. For they said, well it might have been Cause of their tynsal[15] everilk ane. The king answer has made them nane, But mainit[16] his hand-axe shaft so Was with the stroke broken in two.

[1] 'Hale:' whole. [2] 'Gart:' caused. [3] 'Haw:' row [4] 'Hy:' haste [5] 'Apertly:' openly, clearly. [6] 'Forouth:' beyond. [7] 'Feres:' companions. [8] 'Forouten:' without. [9] 'Sprent they samen into a lyng:' they sprang forward at once, against each other, in a line. [10] 'Raucht:' reached. [11] 'Harns:' brains. [12] 'Frushit:' broke. [13] 'Yird:' earth. [14] 'Stith:' strong. [15] 'Tynsal:' destruction. [16] 'Mainit:' lamented.

ANDREW WYNTOUN.

This author, who was prior of St Serf's monastery in Loch Leven, is the author of what he calls 'An Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland.' It appeared about the year 1420. It is much inferior to the work of Barbour in poetry, but is full of historical information, anecdote, and legend. The language is often sufficiently prosaic. Thus the poet begins to describe the return of King David II. from his captivity, referred to above.

'Yet in prison was king Davy,
And when a lang time was gane bye,
Frae prison and perplexitie
To Berwick castle brought was he,
With the Earl of Northamptoun,
For to treat there of his ransoun;
Some lords of Scotland come there,
And als prelates that wisest were,' &c.

Contemporary, or nearly so, with Wyntoun were several other Scottish writers, such as one Hutcheon, of whom we know only that he is designated of the 'Awle Ryall,' or of the Royal Hall or Palace, and that he wrote a metrical romance, of which two cantos remain, called 'The Gest of Arthur;' and another, named Clerk of Tranent, the author of a romance, entitled 'The Adventures of Sir Gawain.' Of this latter also two cantos only are extant. Although not perhaps deserving to have even portions of them extracted, they contain a good deal of poetry. A person, too, of the name of Holland, about whose history we have no information, produced a satirical poem, called 'The Howlate,' written in the allegorical form, and bearing some resemblance to 'Pierce Plowman's Vision.'

BLIND HARRY.

Although there are diversities of opinion as to the exact time when this blind minstrel flourished, we prefer alluding to him at this point, where he stands in close proximity to Barbour, the author of a poem on a subject so cognate to 'Wallace' as 'Bruce.' Nothing is known of Harry but that he was blind from infancy, that he composed this poem, and gained a subsistence by reciting or singing portions of it through the country. Another Wandering Willie, (see 'Redgauntlet,') he 'passed like night from land to land,' led by his own instincts, and wherever he met with a congenial audience, he proceeded to chant portions of the noble knight's achievements, his eyes the while twinkling, through their sad setting of darkness, with enthusiasm, and often suffused with tears. In some minds the conception of this blind wandering bard may awaken ludicrous emotions, but to us it suggests a certain sublimity. Blind Harry has powerfully described Wallace standing in the light and shrinking from the ghost of Fawdoun, (see the 'Battle of Black- Earnside,' in the 'Specimens,') but Harry himself seems walking in the light of the ghost of Wallace, and it ministers to him, not terror, but inspiration. Entering a cot at night, and asked for a tale, he begins, in low tones, to recite that frightful apparition at Gaskhall, and the aged men and the crones vie with the children in drawing near the 'ingle bleeze,' as if in fire alone lay the refuge from

'Fawdoun, that ugly sire,
That haill hall he had set into a fire,
As to his sight, his OWN HEAD IN HIS HAND.'

Arriving in a village at the hour of morning rest and refreshment, he charms the swains by such words as

'The merry day sprang from the orient
With beams bright illuminate the Occident,
After Titan Phoebus upriseth fair,
High in the sphere the signs he made declare.
Zephyrus then began his morning course,
The sweet vapour thus from the ground resourse,' &c.--

and the simple villagers wonder at hearing these images from one who is blind, not seeing the sun. As the leaves are rustling down from the ruddy trees of late autumn, he sings to a little circle of wayside wanderers--

'The dark region appearing wonder fast,
In November, when October was past,

* * * * *

Good Wallace saw the night's messenger,
Phoebus had lost his fiery beams so clear;
Out of that wood they durst not turn that side
For adversours that in their way would hide.'

And while on the verge of the December sky, the wintry sun is trembling and about to set as if for ever, then is the Minstrel's voice heard sobbing amidst the sobs of his hearers, as he tells how his hero's sun went down while it was yet day.

'On Wednesday the false Southron furth brocht
To martyr him as they before had wrocht,
Of men in arms led him a full great rout,
With a bauld sprite guid Wallace blent about.'

There can be little doubt that Blind Harry, during his lifetime, became a favourite, nay, a power in the realm. Wherever he circulated, there circulated the fame of Wallace; there, his deeds were recounted; there, hatred of a foreign foe, and love to their native land, were inculcated as first principles; and long after the Homer of Scotland had breathed his last, and been consigned perhaps to some little kirkyard among the uplands, his lays continued to live; and we know that such a man as Burns (who read them in the modern paraphrase of William Hamilton of Gilbertfield, a book which was, till within a somewhat recent period, a household god in the libraries of the Scotch) derived from the old singer much of 'that national prejudice which boiled in his breast till the floodgates of life shut in eternal rest.' If Barbour, as we said, was fortunate in his subject, still more was Blind Harry in his. The interest felt in Wallace is of a deeper and warmer kind than that which we feel in Bruce. Bruce was of royal blood; Wallace was from an ancient but not wealthy family. Bruce stained his career by one great crime --great in itself, but greater from the peculiar notions of the age --the murder of Comyn in the sanctuary of Dumfries; on the character of Wallace no similar imputation rests. Wallace initiated that plan of guerilla warfare,--that fighting now on foot and now on the wing, now with beak and now with talons, now with horns and now with hoofs,--which Bruce had only to perfect. Wallace was unsuccessful, and was besides treated by the King of England with revolting barbarity; while Bruce became victorious: and, as we saw in our remarks on Chaucer, it is the unfortunate brave who stamp themselves most forcibly on a nation's heart, and it is the red letters, which tell of suffering and death, which are with most difficulty erased from a nation's tablets. On Bruce we look somewhat as we regard Washington,--a great, serene man, who, after long reverses, nobly sustained, gained a notable national triumph; to Wallace we feel, as the Italians do to Garibaldi, as a demon of warlike power,--blending courage and clemency, enthusiasm and skill, daring and determination, in proportions almost superhuman,--and we cry with the poet,

'The sword that seem'd fit for archangel to wield,
Was light in his terrible hand.'

We have often regretted that Sir Walter Scott, who, after all, has not done full justice to Bruce in that very unequal and incondite poem 'The Lord of the Isles,' had not bent his strength upon the Ulysses bow of Wallace, and filled up that splendid sketch of a part of his history to be found near the beginning of 'The Fair Maid of Perth.' As it is, after all that a number of respectable writers, such as Miss Porter, Mrs Hemans, Findlay, the late Mr Macpherson of Glasgow, and others, have done--in prose or verse, in the novel, the poem, or the drama--to illustrate the character and career of the Scottish hero, Blind Harry remains his poet.

It is necessary to notice that Harry derived, by his own account, many of the facts of his narrative from a work by John Blair, a Benedictine monk from Dundee, who acted as Wallace's chaplain, and seems to have composed a life of him in Latin, which is lost. Besides these, he doubtless mingled in the story a number of traditions--some true, and some false--which he found floating through the country. His authority in reference to certain disputed matters, such as Wallace's journey to France, and his capture of the Red Rover, Thomas de Longueville, who became his fast friend and fellow-soldier, was not long ago entirely established by certain important documents brought to light by the Maitland Club. It is probable that some other of his supposed misstatements--always excepting his ghost-stories--may yet receive from future researches the confirmation they as yet want. Blind Harry, living about a century and a half after the era of Wallace, and at a time when tradition was the chief literature, was not likely to be able to test the evidence of many of the circumstances which he narrated; but he seems to speak in good faith: and, after all, what Paley says is unquestionably true as a general principle--'Men tell lies about minute circumstantials, but they rarely invent.'

BATTLE OF BLACK-EARNSIDE.