Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets Part 21

'Of gold ane thousand pound or tway,'

he will give him a sealed bond, obliging himself to repay the loan when the Ba.s.s and the Isle of May are set upon Mount Sinai; or the Lomond hills, near Falkland, are removed to Northumberland; or

'When kirkmen yairnis [desire] na dignity, Nor wives na soveranitie.'

Still finer the last lines of the poem. 'If not,' he says, 'my G.o.d

'Shall cause me stand content With quiet life and sober rent, And take me, in my latter age, Unto my simple hermitage, To spend the gear my elders won, As did Diogenes in his tun.'

This 'Complaint' proved successful, and in the next year (1530) Lyndsay was appointed Lion King-at-Arms--an office of great dignity in these days. The Lion was the chief judge of all matters connected with heraldry in the realm; was also the official amba.s.sador from his sovereign to foreign countries; and was inaugurated in his office with a pomp and circ.u.mstance little inferior to those of a royal coronation, the King crowning him with his own hands, anointing him with wine instead of oil, and putting on his head the Royal Crown of Scotland, which he continued to wear till the close of the feast. It is of Lyndsay in the full accoutrements of this office that Sir Walter Scott speaks in his 'Marmion,' although he antedates by sixteen years the time when he a.s.sumed it:--

'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 t.i.tle 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 n.o.bles, and administers severe satirical chastis.e.m.e.nt 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 l.u.s.ty 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 a.n.a.lysis 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, ent.i.tled '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 ent.i.tled 'The Justing between James Watson and John Barbour,' a dull satire on tournaments, &c., and the other a somewhat cleverer piece, ent.i.tled '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 antic.i.p.ation 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, ent.i.tled '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 pa.s.sed 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...o...b..ldistone'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 pa.s.s'd within the border, Nor press'd to come within the green, But heralds and the champions keen; The order and the circ.u.mstance Were long to put in remembrance.

When these two n.o.ble 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--G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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]