Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets Part 20

Amid the wortis and the rootis gent Picking his meat in alleys where he went, His wives Toppa and Partolet him by-- A bird all-time that hauntis bigamy.

The painted powne[23] pacing with plumes gym, Cast up his tail a proud pleasand wheel-rim, Yshrouded in his feathering bright and sheen, Shaping the print of Argus' hundred een.

Among the bowis of the olive twists, Sere[24] small fowls, working crafty nests, Endlong the hedges thick, and on rank aiks[25]

Ilk bird rejoicing with their mirthful makes.

In corners and clear fenestres[26] of gla.s.s, Full busily Arachne weaving was, To knit her nettis and her webbis sly, Therewith to catch the little midge or fly.

So dusty powder upstours[27] in every street, While corby gasped for the fervent heat.

Under the boughis bene[28] in lovely vales, Within fermance and parkis close of pales, The busteous buckis rakis forth on raw, Herdis of hartis through the thick wood-shaw.

The young fawns following the dun does, Kids, skipping through, runnis after roes.

In leisurs and on leais, little lambs Full tait and trig sought bleating to their dams.

On salt streams wolk[29] Dorida and Thetis, By running strandis, Nymphis and Naiadis, Such as we clepe wenches and damasels, In gersy[30] groves wandering by spring wells; Of bloomed branches and flowers white and red, Platting their l.u.s.ty chaplets for their head.

Some sang ring-songes, dances, leids,[31] and rounds.

With voices shrill, while all thel dale resounds.

Whereso they walk into their carolling, For amorous lays does all the rockis ring.

One sang, 'The ship sails over the salt faem, Will bring the merchants and my leman hame.'

Some other sings, 'I will be blithe and light, My heart is lent upon so goodly wight.'[32]

And thoughtful lovers rounis[33] to and fro, To leis[34] their pain, and plain their jolly woe; After their guise, now singing, now in sorrow, With heartis pensive the long summer's morrow.

Some ballads list indite of his lady; Some lives in hope; and some all utterly Despaired is, and so quite out of grace, His purgatory he finds in every place. * *

Dame Nature's minstrels, on that other part, Their blissful lay intoning every art, * *

And all small fowlis singis on the spray, Welcome the lord of light, and lamp of day, Welcome fosterer of tender herbis green, Welcome quickener of flourish'd flowers sheen, Welcome support of every root and vein, Welcome comfort of all kind fruit and grain, Welcome the birdis' bield[35] upon the brier, Welcome master and ruler of the year, Welcome welfare of husbands at the ploughs, Welcome repairer of woods, trees, and boughs, Welcome depainter of the bloomed meads, Welcome the life of every thing that spreads, Welcome storer of all kind b.e.s.t.i.a.l, Welcome be thy bright beamis, gladding all. * *

[1] 'Ished of:' issued from.

[2] 'Unshet:' opened.

[3] 'Spraings:' streaks.

[4] 'Ment:' mingled.

[5] 'Sore:' yellowish brown.

[6] 'Neisthirls:' nostrils.

[7] 'Abulyit:' attired.

[8] 'Lemand:' glittering.

[9] 'Loune:' calm.

[10] 'Sulyart:' sultry.

[11] 'Selcouth:' uncommon.

[12] 'Bews:' boughs.

[13] 'Kirnals:' battlements.

[14] 'Phiol:' cupola.

[15] 'Stage:' storey.

[16] 'Yerd:' earth.

[17] 'Prai:' meadow.

[18] 'Caller humours:' cool vapours.

[19] 'Gerse:' gra.s.s.

[20] 'Bourgeons:' sprouts.

[21] 'Ying:' young.

[22] 'Red fowl:' the cook.

[23] 'Powne:' the peac.o.c.k.

[24] 'Sere:' many.

[25] 'Aiks:' oaks.

[26] 'Fenestres:' windows.

[27] 'Upstours:' rises in clouds.

[28] 'Bene:' snug.

[29] 'Wolk:' walked.

[30] 'Gersy:' gra.s.sy.

[31] 'Leids:' lays.

[32] Songs then popular.

[33] 'Rounis:' whisper.

[34] 'Leis:' relieve.

[35] 'Bield:' shelter.

HAWES, BARCLAY, &c.

Stephen Hawes, a native of Suffolk, wrote about the close of the fifteenth century. He studied at Oxford, and travelled much in France, where he became a master of French and Italian poetry. King Henry VII., struck with his conversation and the readiness with which he repeated old English poets, especially Lydgate, created him groom of the privy chamber. Hawes has written a number of poems, such as 'The Temple of Gla.s.se,' 'The Conversion of Swearers,' 'The Consolation of Lovers,' 'The Pastime of Pleasure,' &c. Those who wish to see specimens of the strange allegories and curious devices of thought in which it abounds, may find them in Warton's 'History of English Poetry.'

In that same valuable work we find an account of Alexander Barclay, author of 'The Ship of Fools.' He was educated at Oriel College in Oxford, and after travelling abroad, was appointed one of the priests or prebendaries of the College of St Mary Ottery, in Devonshire--a parish famous in later days for the birth of Coleridge. Barclay became afterwards a Benedictine monk of Ely monastery; and at length a brother of the Order of St Francis, at Canterbury. He died, a very old man, at Croydon, in Surrey, in the year 1552. His princ.i.p.al work, 'The Ship of Fools,' is a satire upon the vices and absurdities of his age, and shews considerable wit and power of sarcasm.

SKELTON.

John Skelton is the name of the next poet. He flourished in the earlier part of the reign of Henry VIII. Having studied both at Oxford and Cambridge, and been laureated at the former university in 1489, he was promoted to the rectory of Diss or Dysse, in Norfolk. Some say he had acted previously as tutor to Henry VIII. At Dysse he attracted attention by satirical ballads against the mendicants, as well as by licences of buffoonery in the pulpit. For these he was censured, and even, it is said, suspended, by Nykke, Bishop of Norwich. Undaunted by this, he flew at higher game--ventured to ridicule Cardinal Wolsey, then in his power, and had to take refuge from the myrmidons of the prelate in Westminster Abbey. There Abbot Islip kindly entertained and protected him till his dying day. He breathed his last in the year 1529, and was buried in the adjacent church of St Margaret's.

Skelton as well as Barclay enjoyed considerable popularity in his own age. Erasmus calls him 'Britannicarum literarum lumen et decus!' How dark must have been the night in which such a Will-o'-wisp was mistaken for a star! He has wit, indeed, and satirical observation; but his wit is wilder than it is strong, and his satire is dashed with personality and obscenity. His style, Campbell observes, is 'almost a texture of slang phrases, patched with shreds of French and Latin.' His verses on Margaret Hussey, which we have quoted, are in his happiest vein. The following lines, too, on Cardinal Wolsey, are as true as they are terse:--

'Then in the Chamber of Stars All matter there he mars.

Clapping his rod on the board, No man dare speak a word.

For he hath all the saying, Without any renaying.

He rolleth in his recrds; He sayeth, How say ye, my Lords?

Is not my reason good?

Good even, good Robin Hood.

Some say, Yes; and some Sit still, as they were dumb.'

It is curious that Wolsey's enemies, in one of their charges against him in the Parliament of 1529, have repeated, almost in the words of Skelton, the same accusation.

TO MISTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.

Merry Margaret, As midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon, Or hawk of the tower; With solace and gladness, Much mirth and no madness, All good and no badness; So joyously, So maidenly, So womanly, Her demeaning, In everything, Far, far pa.s.sing, That I can indite, Or suffice to write, Of merry Margaret, As midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon, Or hawk of the tower; As patient and as still, And as full of good-will, As fair Isiphil, Coliander, Sweet Pomander, Good Ca.s.sander; Steadfast of thought, Well made, well wrought.

Far may be sought, Ere you can find So courteous, so kind, As merry Margaret, This midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon, Or hawk of the tower.

SIR DAVID LYNDSAY.

Returning to Scotland, we find a Skelton of a higher order and a brawnier make in Sir David Lyndsay, or, as our forefathers were wont familiarly to denominate him, 'Davie Lyndsay.' Lyndsay was descended from a n.o.ble family, a younger branch of Lyndsay of the Byres, and born in 1490, probably at the Mount, the family-seat, near Cupar-Fife. He entered the University of St Andrews in the year 1505, and four years later left it to travel in Italy. He must, however, have returned to Scotland before the 12th of October 1511, since we learn from the records of the Lord Treasurer that he was presented with a quant.i.ty of 'blue and yellow taffety to be a playcoat for the play performed in the King and Queen's presence in the Abbey of Holyrood.' On the 12th of April 1512, Lyndsay, then twenty-two years of age, was appointed gentleman-usher to James V., who had been born that very day. In his poem called 'The Dream,' he reminds the King of his having borne him in his arms ere he could walk; of having wrapped him up warmly in his little bed; of having sung to him with his lute, danced before him to make him laugh, and having carried him on his shoulders like a 'pedlar his pack.' He continued to be page and companion to the King till 1524, when, in consequence of the unprincipled machinations of the Queen- mother--who was acting as Regent--he, as well as b.e.l.l.e.n.den, the learned translator of Livy and Boece, was ejected from his office. When, however, in 1528, the young King, by a n.o.ble effort, emanc.i.p.ated himself from the thraldom of his mother and the Dougla.s.ses, Lyndsay wrote his 'Dream,' in which, amidst much poetic or fantastic matter, he congratulates James on his deliverance; reminds him, as aforesaid, of his early services; and takes occasion to paint the evils the country had endured during his minority, and to give him some bold and salutary advice as to his future conduct. The next year (1529) he produced 'The Complaint,' a poem in which he recurs to former themes, and remonstrates with great freedom and severity against the treatment he had undergone. Here, too, the religious reformer peeps out. He exhorts the King to compel the clergy to attend to the duties of their office; to preach more earnestly; to administer the sacraments according to the inst.i.tution of Christ; and not to deceive their people with superst.i.tious pilgrimages, vain traditions, and prayers to graven images, contrary to the written command of G.o.d. He with quaint iron says, that if his Grace will lend him