Chapter 11

'He was a man of middle age, In aspect manly, grave, and sage, As on king's errand come; But in the glances of his eye, A penetrating, keen, and sly Expression found its home-- The flash of that satiric rage Which, bursting on the early stage, Branded the vices of the age, And broke the keys of Rome. On milk-white palfrey forth he paced; His cap of maintenance was graced With the proud heron-plume; From his steed's shoulder, loin, and breast Silk housings swept the ground, With Scotland's arms, device, and crest Embroider'd round and round. The double treasure might you see, First by Achaius borne, The thistle and the fleur-de-lis, And gallant unicorn. So bright the king's armorial coat, That scarce the dazzled eye could note; In living colours, blazon'd brave, The lion, which his title gave. A train which well beseem'd his state, But all unarm'd, around him wait; Still is thy name in high account, And still thy verse has charms, Sir David Lyndsay of the Mount, Lord Lion King-at-Arms.'

Soon after this appointment, Lyndsay wrote 'The Complaint of the King's Papingo,' in which, through the mouth of a dying parrot, he gives some sharp counsel to the king, his courtiers and nobles, and administers severe satirical chastisement to the corruptions of the clergy. It is an exceedingly clever production, and has some beautiful poetry as well as stinging sarcasm. Take the following address to Edinburgh, Stirling, Linlithgow, and Falkland:--

Adieu, Edinburgh! thou high triumphant town, Within whose bounds right blitheful have I been; Of true merchandis, the rule of this region, Most ready to receive court, king, and queen; Thy policy and justice may be seen; Were devotion, wisdom, and honesty, And credence tint, they micht be found in thee.

Adieu, fair Snawdoun! [Stirling] with thy towers hie, Thy chapel-royal, park, and table round; May, June, and July would I dwell in thee, Were I a man to hear the birdis sound, Which doth against the royal rock rebound. Adieu, Lithgow! whose palace of pleasance Meets not its peer in Portingale or France.

Farewell, Falkland! the forteress of Fife, Thy velvet park under the Lomond Law; Sometime in thee I led a lusty life. The fallow deer to see them raik on raw [walk in a row], Caust men to come to thee, they have great awe, &c.

In the year 1535, Lyndsay wrote his remarkable drama, 'The Satire of the Three Estates'--Monarch, namely, Barons, and Clergy. It is made up in nearly three equal parts of ingenuity, wit, and grossness. It is a drama, and was acted several times--first, in 1535, at Cupar-Fife, on a large green mound called Moot-hill; then, in 1539, in an open park near Linlithgow, by the express desire of the king, who with all the ladies of the Court attended the representation; then in the amphitheatre of St Johnston in Perth; and in 1554, at Edinburgh, in the village of Greenside, which skirted the northern base of the Calton Hill, in the presence of the Queen Regent and an enormous concourse of spectators. Its exhibition appears to have occupied nearly the whole day. In the 'Pictorial History of Scotland,' chapter xxiv., our readers will find a full and able analysis with extracts of this extraordinary performance. It is said to have done much good in opening the eyes of the people to the evils of the Papacy, and in paving the way for the Reformation.

In 1536 Sir David, in company with Sir John Campbell of Lundie, was sent to the Court of France to demand in marriage for James V. a daughter of the House of Vendome; but the King chose rather to take the matter in his own hands, and, going over in person, wedded Magdalene, daughter of Francis. She died two months after her arrival in Scotland, universally regretted; and Lyndsay made the sad event the subject of a poem, entitled 'Deploration of the Death of Queen Magdalene,' whom he designates

'The flower of France, and comfort of Scotland.'

When James subsequently married Mary of Guise, Sir David's ingenuity was strained to the utmost in providing pageants, masques, and shows to welcome her Majesty. For forty days in St Andrews, festivities continued; and it was during this prolonged festival that the Lion King, as if sick and satiated with vanities, wrote two poems, one entitled 'The Justing between James Watson and John Barbour,' a dull satire on tournaments, &c., and the other a somewhat cleverer piece, entitled 'Supplication directed to the King's Grace in Contemptioun of Side Tails,' the long trains then worn by the ladies. It met, we presume,with the fate of _Punch's_ sarcasms against crinoline,--the 'phylacteries' would for a season, instead of being lessened, be enlarged, till Fashion lifted up her omnipotent rod, and told it to be otherwise.

King James died prematurely on the 14th of December 1542, and Lyndsay closed his eyes at Falkland, and mourned for him as a brother. From that day forth he probably felt that there was 'less sunshine in the sky for him.' In the troublous times which succeeded this, he had to retire for a season from the Court, having become obnoxious to the rigid Papists on account of his writings. After the death of Cardinal Beatoun he wrote the tragedy of 'The Cardinal,' a poem in which the spectre of the Cardinal is the spokesman, and which teems with good advice to all and sundry. The execution, however, is not so felicitous as the plan. In 1548 Lyndsay went to Denmark to negotiate a free trade with Scotland. On his return in 1550 he wrote his very pleasing and chivalric 'History of Squire Meldrum,' founded on the actual adventures of William Meldrum, the Laird of Cleish and Binns, a distinguished friend of the poet, who had gained laurels as a warrior both in Scotland and in France. This poem is, in a measure, an anticipation of the rhymed romances of Scott, and is full of picturesque description and spirit-stirring adventure. In 1553 he completed his last and most elaborate work, which had occupied him for years, entitled 'The Monarchic,' containing an account of the most famous monarchies which have existed on earth, and carrying on the history to the general judgment. From this date we almost entirely lose sight of our poet. He seems to have retired into private life, and is supposed to have died about the close of 1557. He was probably buried in the family vault at Ceres, but no stone marks the spot. Dying without issue, his estates passed to his brother Alexander, and were continued in the possession of his descendants till the middle of last century. They now belong to the Hopes of Rankeillour. The office of Lord Lion was held by two of the poet's relatives successively--Sir David, his nephew, who became Lion King in 1591, and his son-in-law, Sir Jerome Lyndsay, who succeeded to it in 1621.

Sir David Lyndsay, unlike most satirists, was a good, a blameless, and a religious man. The occasional loftiness of his poetic vein, the breadth of his humour, the purity of his purpose, and his strong reforming zeal combined to make his poetry exceedingly popular in Scotland for a number of ages, particularly among the lower orders. Scott introduces Andrew Fairservice, in 'Rob Roy,' saying, in reference to Francis Osbaldistone's poetical efforts, 'Gude help him! twa lines o' Davie Lyndsay wad ding a' he ever clerkit,' and even still there are districts of the country where his name is a household word.

MELDRUM'S DUEL WITH THE ENGLISH CHAMPION TALBART.

Then clarions and trumpets blew, And warriors many hither drew; On every side came many man To behold who the battle wan. The field was in the meadow green, Where every man might well be seen: The heralds put them so in order, That no man pass'd within the border, Nor press'd to come within the green, But heralds and the champions keen; The order and the circumstance Were long to put in remembrance. When these two noble men of weir Were well accoutred in their geir, And in their handis strong burdouns,[1] Then trumpets blew and clariouns, And heralds cried high on height, 'Now let them go--God show the right.'

* * * * *

Then trumpets blew triumphantly, And these two champions eagerly, They spurr'd their horse with spear on breast, Pertly[2] to prove their pith they press'd. That round rink-room[3] was at utterance, But Talbart's horse with a mischance He outterit,[4] and to run was loth; Whereof Talbart was wonder wroth. The Squier forth his rink[5] he ran, Commended well with every man, And him discharged of his spear Honestly, like a man of weir.

* * * * *

The trenchour[6] of the Squier's spear Stuck still into Sir Talbart's geir; Then every man into that stead[7] Did all believe that he was dead. The Squier leap'd right hastily From his courser deliverly,[8] And to Sir Talbart made support, And humillie[9] did him comfort. When Talbart saw into his shield An otter in a silver field, 'This race,' said he, 'I sore may rue, For I see well my dream was true; Methought yon otter gart[10] me bleed, And bore me backward from my steed; But here I vow to God soverain, That I shall never joust again.' And sweetly to the Squier said, 'Thou know'st the cunning[11] that we made, Which of us two should tyne[12] the field, He should both horse and armour yield To him that won, wherefore I will My horse and harness give thee till.' Then said the Squier, courteously, 'Brother, I thank you heartfully; Of you, forsooth, nothing I crave, For I have gotten that I would have.'

[1] 'Burdouns:' spears. [2] 'Pertly:' boldly. [3] 'Rink-room:' course-room. [4] 'Outterit:' swerved. [5] 'Kink:' course. [6] 'Trencliour:' head. [7] 'Stead:' place. [8] 'Deliverly:' actively. [9] 'Humillie:' humbly. [10] 'Gart:' made. [11] 'Cunning:' agreement. [12] 'Tyne:' lose.

SUPPLICATION IN CONTEMPTION OF SIDE TAILS,[1] (1538.)

Sovereign, I mene[2] of these side tails, Whilk through the dust and dubbes trails, Three quarters lang behind their heels, Express against all commonweals. Though bishops, in their pontificals, Have men for to bear up their tails, For dignity of their office; Right so a queen or an emprice; Howbeit they use such gravity, Conforming to their majesty, Though their robe-royals be upborne, I think it is a very scorn, That every lady of the land Should have her tail so side trailand; Howbeit they be of high estate, The queen they should not counterfeit.

Wherever they go it may be seen How kirk and causey they sweep clean. The images into the kirk May think of their side tailes irk;[3] For when the weather be most fair, The dust flies highest into the air, And all their faces does begary, If they could speak, they would them wary. * * But I have most into despite Poor claggocks[4] clad in raploch[5] white, Whilk has scant two merks for their fees, Will have two ells beneath their knees. Kittock that cleckit[6] was yestreen, The morn will counterfeit the queen. * * In barn nor byre she will not bide, Without her kirtle tail be side. In burghs, wanton burgess wives Who may have sidest tailes strives, Well bordered with velvet fine, But following them it is a pine: In summer, when the streetes dries, They raise the dust above the skies; None may go near them at their ease, Without they cover mouth and neese. * * I think most pain after a rain, To see them tucked up again; Then when they step forth through the street, Their faldings flaps about their feet; They waste more cloth, within few years, Nor would cleid[7] fifty score of freirs. * * Of tails I will no more indite, For dread some duddron[8] me despite: Notwithstanding, I will conclude, That of side tails can come no good, Sider nor[9] may their ankles hide, The remanent proceeds of pride, And pride proceedis of the devil; Thus alway they proceed of evil.

Another fault, Sir, may be seen, They hide their face all but the een; When gentlemen bid them good-day, Without reverence they slide away. * * Without their faults be soon amended, My flyting,[10] Sir, shall never be ended; But would your grace my counsel take, A proclamation ye should make, Both through the land and burrowstowns, To show their face and cut their gowns. Women will say, This is no bourds,[11] To write such vile and filthy words; But would they cleanse their filthy tails, Whilk over the mires and middings[12] trails, Then should my writing cleansed be, None other' mends they get of me.

Quoth Lyndsay, in contempt of the side tails, That duddrons[13] and duntibours[14] through the dubbes trails.

[1] 'Side tails:' long skirts. [2] 'Mene:' complain. [3] 'Irk:' May feel annoyed. [4] 'Claggocks:' draggle-tails. [5] 'Raploch:' homespun. [6] 'Cleckit:' born. [7] 'Cleid:' clothe. [8] 'Duddron:' slut. [9] 'Nor:' than. [10] 'Flyting:' scolding. [11] 'Bourds:' jest. [12] 'Middings:' dunghills. [13] 'Duddrons:' sluts. [14] 'Duntibours:' harlots.

THOMAS TUSSER.

Of Tusser we know only that he was horn in the year 1523, was well educated, commenced life as a courtier under the patronage of Lord Paget, but became a farmer, pursuing agriculture at Ratwood in Sussex, Ipswich, Fairsted in Essex, Norwich, and other places; that he was not successful, and had to betake himself to other occupations, such as those of a chorister, fiddler, &c.; and that, finally, he died a poor man in London in the year 1580. Tusser has left only one work, published in 1557, entitled 'A Hundred Good Points of Husbandrie,' written in simple but sometimes strong verse. It is our first, and not our worst didactic poem.

DIRECTIONS FOR CULTIVATING A HOP-GARDEN.

Whom fancy persuadeth, among other crops, To have for his spending sufficient of hops, Must willingly follow, of choices to choose, Such lessons approved as skilful do use.

Ground gravelly, sandy, and mixed with clay, Is naughty for hops, any manner of way. Or if it be mingled with rubbish and stone, For dryness and barrenness let it alone.

Choose soil for the hop of the rottenest mould, Well dunged and wrought, as a garden-plot should; Not far from the water, but not overflown, This lesson, well noted, is meet to be known.

The sun in the south, or else southly and west, Is joy to the hop, as a welcomed guest; But wind in the north, or else northerly east, To the hop is as ill as a fray in a feast.

Meet plot for a hop-yard once found as is told, Make thereof account, as of jewel of gold; Now dig it, and leave it, the sun for to burn, And afterwards fence it, to serve for that turn.

The hop for his profit I thus do exalt, It strengtheneth drink, and it favoureth malt; And being well brew'd, long kept it will last, And drawing abide--if ye draw not too fast.

HOUSEWIFELY PHYSIC.

Good housewife provides, ere a sickness do come, Of sundry good things in her house to have some. Good _aqua composita_, and vinegar tart, Rose-water, and treacle, to comfort thine heart. Cold herbs in her garden, for agues that burn, That over-strong heat to good temper may turn. White endive, and succory, with spinach enow; All such with good pot-herbs, should follow the plough. Get water of fumitory, liver to cool, And others the like, or else lie like a fool. Conserves of barbary, quinces, and such, With sirops, that easeth the sickly so much. Ask _Medicus'_ counsel, ere medicine ye take, And honour that man for necessity's sake. Though thousands hate physic, because of the cost, Yet thousands it helpeth, that else should be lost. Good broth, and good keeping, do much now and than: Good diet, with wisdom, best comforteth man. In health, to be stirring shall profit thee best; In sickness, hate trouble; seek quiet and rest. Remember thy soul; let no fancy prevail; Make ready to God-ward; let faith never quail: The sooner thyself thou submittest to God, The sooner he ceaseth to scourge with his rod.

MORAL REFLECTIONS ON THE WIND.

Though winds do rage, as winds were wood,[1] And cause spring-tides to raise great flood; And lofty ships leave anchor in mud, Bereaving many of life and of blood: Yet, true it is, as cow chews cud, And trees, at spring, doth yield forth bud, Except wind stands as never it stood, It is an ill wind turns none to good.

[1] 'Wood:' mad.

VAUX, EDWARDS, &c.

In Tottell's 'Miscellany,' the first of the sort in the English language, published in 1557, although the names of many of the authors are not given, the following writers are understood to have contributed:--Sir Francis Bryan, a friend of Wyatt's, one of the principal ornaments of the Court of Henry VIII., and who died, in 1548, Chief Justiciary of Ireland; George Boleyn, Earl of Rochford, the amiable brother of the famous Anne Boleyn, and who fell a victim to the insane jealousy of Henry, being beheaded in 1536; and Lord Thomas Vaux, son of Nicholas Vaux, who died in the latter end of Queen Mary's reign. In the same Miscellany is found 'Phillide and Harpalus,' the 'first true pastoral,' says Warton, 'in the English language,' (see 'Specimens.') To it are annexed, too, a collection of 'Songes, written by N. G.,' which means Nicholas Grimoald, an Oxford man, renowned for his rhetorical lectures in Christ Church, and for being, after Surrey, our first writer of blank verse, in the modulation of which he excelled even Surrey. Henry himself, who was an expert musician, is said also to have composed a book of sonnets and one madrigal in praise of Anne Boleyn. In the same reign occur the names of Borde, Bale, Bryan, Annesley, John Rastell, Wilfred Holme, and Charles Bansley, all writers of minor and forgotten poems. John Heywood, called the Epigrammatist, was of a somewhat higher order. He was the favourite of Sir Thomas More and the pensioner of Henry VIII. He gained favour partly through his conversational humour, and partly through his writings. He is the author of various comedies; of six hundred epigrams, most of them very poor; of a dialogue, in verse, containing all the proverbs then afloat in the language; of an apologue, entitled 'The Spider and the Fly,' &c. Heywood, who was a rigid Papist, left the kingdom after the decease of Queen Mary, and died at Mechlin, in Brabant, in 1565. Warton has preserved some specimens of Sir Thomas More's poetry, which do not add much to our conception of his genius. In 1542, one Robert Vaughan wrote an alliterative poem, entitled 'The Falcon and the Pie.' In 1521, 'The Not-browne Maid,' (given by us in 'Percy's Reliques,') appeared in a curious collection, called 'Arnolde's Chronicle, or Customs of London.' In the same year Wynkyn de Worde printed a set of 'Christmas Carols,' and in 1529 'A Treatise of Merlin, or his Prophecies in Verse.' In Henry's days, too, there commences the long line of translators of the Psalms into English metre, commencing with Thomas Sternhold, groom of the robes to the King, who versified fifty-one psalms, which were published in 1549, and with John Hopkins, a clergyman and schoolmaster in Suffolk, who added fifty-eight more, and progressing with Whyttingham, Thomas Norton, (the joint author, along with Lord Buckhurst, of the curious old tragedy of 'Gorboduc,') Robert Wisdome, William Hunnis, William Baldwyn, Parker, the scholarly and celebrated Archbishop of Canterbury, &c. &c. Parker trans- lated all the Psalms himself; and John Day published in 1562, and attached to the Book of Common Prayer, the whole of Sternhold and Hopkins' 'Psalms, with apt notes to sing them withall.' In Edward's reign appeared a very different strain--the first drinking-song of merit in the language, 'Back and sides go bare'--(see 'Specimens,' vol. 2.) This song occurs at the opening of the second act of 'Gammer Gurton's Needle,' a comedy written (by a 'Mr S.') and printed in 1551, and afterwards acted at Christ's College in Cambridge.

In the reign of Mary, flourished Richard Edwards, a man of no small versatility of genius. He was a native of Somersetshire, was born about 1523, and died in 1566. He wrote two comedies, one entitled 'Damon and Pythias,' and the other 'Palamon and Arcite,' both of which were acted before Queen Elizabeth. He also contrived masques and wrote verses for pageants, and is said to have been the first fiddler, the most elegant sonnetteer, and the most amusing mimic of the Court. He is the author of a pleasing poem, entitled 'Amantium irae,' and of some lines under the title, 'He requesteth some friendly comfort, affirming his constancy.' We quote a few of them:--

'The mountains nigh, whose lofty tops do meet the haughty sky, The craggy rock, that to the sea free passage doth deny, The aged oak, that doth resist the force of blust'ring blast, The pleasant herb, that everywhere a pleasant smell doth cast, The lion's force, whose courage stout declares a prince-like might, The eagle, that for worthiness is borne of kings in fight-- Then these, I say, and thousands more, by tract of time decay, And, like to time, do quite consume and fade from form to clay; But my true heart and service vow'd shall last time out of mind, And still remain, as thine by doom, as Cupid hath assign'd.'

Edwards also contributed some beautiful things to the well-known old collection, 'The Paradise of Dainty Devices.'

GEORGE GASCOIGNE.

Gascoigne was born in 1540, in Essex, of an ancient family. He was educated at Cambridge, and entered at Gray's Inn, but was disinherited by his father for extravagance, and betook himself to Holland, where he obtained a commission from the Prince of Orange. After various vicissitudes of fortune, being at one time taken prisoner by the Spaniards, and at another receiving a reward from the Prince of three hundred guilders above his pay for his brave conduct at the siege of Middleburg, he returned to England. In 1575, he accompanied Queen Elizabeth in one of her progresses, and wrote for her a mask, entitled 'The Princely Pleasures of Kenilworth.' He is said to have died at Stamford in 1578. He is the author of two or three translated dramas, such as 'The Supposes,' a comedy from Ariosto, and 'Jocasta,' a tragedy from Euripides, besides some graceful and lively minor pieces, one or two of which we append.

GOOD-MORROW.

You that have spent the silent night In sleep and quiet rest, And joy to see the cheerful light That riseth in the east; Now clear your voice, now cheer your heart, Come help me now to sing: Each willing wight come, bear a part, To praise the heavenly King.

And you whom care in prison keeps, Or sickness doth suppress, Or secret sorrow breaks your sleeps, Or dolours do distress; Yet bear a part in doleful wise, Yea, think it good accord, And acceptable sacrifice, Each sprite to praise the Lord.

The dreadful night with darksomeness Had overspread the light; And sluggish sleep with drowsiness Had overpress'd our might: A glass wherein you may behold Each storm that stops our breath, Our bed the grave, our clothes like mould, And sleep like dreadful death.

Yet as this deadly night did last But for a little space, And heavenly day, now night is past, Doth show his pleasant face: So must we hope to see God's face, At last in heaven on high, When we have changed this mortal place For immortality.

And of such haps and heavenly joys As then we hope to hold, All earthly sights, and worldly toys, Are tokens to behold. The day is like the day of doom, The sun, the Son of man; The skies, the heavens; the earth, the tomb, Wherein we rest till than.

The rainbow bending in the sky, Bedcck'd with sundry hues, Is like the seat of God on high, And seems to tell these news: That as thereby He promised To drown the world no more, So by the blood which Christ hath shed, He will our health restore.

The misty clouds that fall sometime, And overcast the skies, Are like to troubles of our time, Which do but dim our eyes. But as such dews are dried up quite, When Phoebus shows his face, So are such fancies put to flight, Where God doth guide by grace.