Some merchands taks unleesomel wine, In Taking sould Discretion be. Some taks other mennis tacks,2 And never remembers that he maun die, Till that the gallows gars him rax :3 In Taking sould Discretion be. Some taks by sea, and some by land, And syne they gat him understand, In Taking sould Discretion be. Some wald tak all his neighbour's gear; Had he of man as little fear As he has dread that God him see; To tak then sould he never forbear: In Taking sould Discretion be. Some wald tak all this warld on breid ;4 Through heart unsatiable and greedie; And puir takers are hangit hie, Shawit for ever, and their succession: In Taking sould Discretion be. pying a prominent place in the history of his country, he died of the plague in London in the year 1522. Douglas shines as an allegorical and descriptive poet. He wants the vigorous sense, and also the graphic force, of Dunbar; while the latter is always close and nervous, Douglas is soft and verbose. The genius of Dunbar is so powerful, that manner sinks beneath it; that of Douglas is so much matter of culture, that manner is its most striking peculiarity. This manner is essentially scholarly. He employs an immense number of words derived from the Latin, as yet comparatively a novelty in English composition. And even his descriptions of nature involve many ideas, very beautiful in themselves, and very beautifully expressed, but inappropriate to the situation, and obviously introduced merely in accordance with literary fashion. The principal original composition of Douglas is a long poem, entitled The Palace of Honour. It was designed as an apologue for the conduct of a king. and therefore addressed to James IV. The poet represents himself as seeing, in a vision, a large company travelling towards the Palace of Honour, He joins them, and narrates the particulars of the pilgrimage. The well-known Pilgrim's Progress bears so strong a resemblance to this poem, that Bunyan could scarcely have been ignorant of it. King Hart, the only other long poem of Douglas, presents a metaphorical view of human life. the most remarkable production of this author was a translation of Virgil's Eneid into Scottish verse, which he executed in the year 1513, being the first version of a Latin classic into any British tongue. It is generally allowed to be a masterly performance, though in too obsolete a language ever to regain its popularity. The original poems, styled prologues, which the translator affixes to each book, are esteemed amongst his happiest pieces. [Apostrophe to Honour.] (Original Spelling.) O hie honour, sweit heuinlie flour digest, [Morning in May.*] As fresh Aurore, to mighty Tithon spouse, Spread all with roses, and full of balm royal, Unwarps braid, the warld till illumine; The twinkling streamers of the orient Shed purpour spraings, with gold and azure ment;5 Eous, the steed, with ruby harness red, Above the seas liftis furth his head, Of colour sore,6 and somedeal brown as berry, For to alichten and glad our emispery; The flame out-bursten at the neisthirls,7 But Furth of his palace royal ishit Phoebus, Thir galyard gardens and each green herbere The painted pownel4 pacand with plumes gym, So dusty powder upstours in every street, Full tait and trig socht bletand to their dams. JOHN SKELTON. * JOHN SKELTON flourished as a poet in the earlier part of the reign of Henry VIII. He was rector of Dysse, in Norfolk, and chiefly wrote satires upon his own order, for which he was at one time compelled to fly from his charge. The pasquils of Skelton are copious and careless effusions of coarse humour, displaying a certain share of imagination, and much rancour; but he could also assume a more amiable and poetical manner, as in the following canzonet:To Mistress Margaret Hussey. Merry Margaret, As midsummer flower, Or hawk of the tower; So joyously, So womanly, 7 Storey. 12 Young. 9 Meadow. 13 The cock. 10 Cool vapours. 11 Sprouts. 14 The peacock. 5 Songs then popular. 6 Whisper. In everything, Good Cassander; Stedfast of thought, Well made, well wrought Or hawk of the tower. EARL OF SURREY. From Chaucer, or at least from James I., the writers of verse in England had displayed little of the grace and elevation of true poetry. At length a worthy successor of those poets appeared in Thomas Howard, eldest son of the Duke of Norfolk, and usually denominated the EARL OF SURREY. This nobleman was born in 1516. He was educated at Windsor, in company with a natural son of the Howard, Earl of Surrey. king, and in early life became accomplished, not only in the learning of the time, but in all kinds of courtly and chivalrous exercises. Having travelled into Italy, he became a devoted student of the poets of that country-Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio, and Ariosto-and formed his own poetical style upon theirs. His poetry is chiefly amorous, and, notwithstanding his having been married in early life, much of it consists of the praises of a lady whom he names Geraldine, supposed to have been a daughter of the Earl of Kildare. Surrey was a gallant soldier as well as a poet, and conducted an important expedition, in 1542, for the devastation of the Scottish borders. He finally fell under the displeasure of Henry VIII., and was beheaded on Tower Hill in 1547. The poetry of Surrey is remarkable for a flowing melody, correctness of style, and purity of expression; he was the first to introduce the sonnet and blank verse into English poetry. The gentle and melancholy pathos of his style is well exemplified in the verses which he wrote during his captivity in Windsor Castle, when about to yield his life a sacrifice to tyrannical caprice : Prisoner in Windsor, he recounteth his Pleasure there passed. So cruel prison how could betide, alas! As proud Windsor? where I, in lust and joy, With a king's son, my childish years did pass, In greater feast than Priam's son of Troy: Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour! The large green courts where we were wont to hove, With eyes cast up into the Maiden Tower, And easy sighs such as folk draw in love. The stately seats, the ladies bright of hue; In active games of nimbleness and strength, Whom in thy walls thou dost each night enclose; Description and Praise of his Love Geraldine. From Tuscan' came my lady's worthy race; Fair Florence was some time their ancient seat; The western isle, whose pleasant shore doth face Wild Camber's cliffs, did give her lively heat: Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast; Her sire, an earl; her dame of princes' blood: From tender years, in Britain she doth rest With king's child, where she tasteth costly food. Hunsdon did first present her to mine een: Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight: Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine: And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight. Her beauty of kind, her virtues from above; Happy is he that can obtain her love! How no age is content with his own estate, and how the age of children is the happiest, if they had skill to understand it. Laid in my quiet bed, In study as I were, I saw within my troubled head, A heap of thoughts appear. And every thought did show So lively in mine eyes, That now I sighed, and then I smiled, As cause of thoughts did rise. I saw the little boy, In thought how oft that he Did wish of God, to scape the rod, The young man eke that feels His bones with pains opprest, How he would be a rich old man, To live and lie at rest: The rich old man that sees His end draw on so sore, How he would be a boy again, To live so much the more. Whereat full oft I smiled, To see how all these three, And musing thus, I think, The case is very strange, That man from wealth, to live in woe, Doth ever seek to change. Thus thoughtful as I lay, I saw my withered skin, How it doth show my dented thws, Them hanging on my chin. Of thy young wanton time; Whereat I sighed, and said, And tell them thus from me, Their time most happy is, The Means to attain Happy Life. The fruitful ground, the quiet mind, The equal frend; no grudge, no strife; No charge of rule, nor governance; Without disease, the healthful life; The household of continuance: The mean diet, no delicate fare; True wisedom joined with simpleness; The night discharged of all care; Where wine the wit may not oppress. The faithful wife, without debate; Such sleeps as may beguile the night; Contented with thine own estate, Ne wish for death, ne fear his might. SIR THOMAS WYATT. He In amorous poetry, which may be said to have taken its rise in this age, Surrey had a fellow-labourer in SIR THOMAS WYATT (1503-1541), another distinguished figure in the court of Henry VIII. Wyatt was a man highly educated for his age, a great traveller, and generally accomplished. died of a fever caught by riding too fast on a hot day from Falmouth, while engaged on a mission to conduct the ambassador of the emperor, Charles V., to court. The songs and sonnets of this author, in praise of his mistress, and expressive of the various feelings he experienced while under the influence of the tender passion, though conceited, are not without refinement, and some share of poetical feeling. The lover's lute cannot be blamed, though it sing Blame not my Lute! for he must sound For lack of wit the Lute is bound To give such tunes as pleaseth me; My Lute, alas! doth not offend, To sing to them that heareth me; My Lute and strings may not deny, But wreak thyself some other way; Spite asketh spite, and changing change, The re-cured Lover exulteth in his Freedom, and voweth to remain free until Death. I am as I am, and so will I be ; Be it ill, be it well, be I bond, be I free, I lead my life indifferently; I mean nothing but honesty ; And though folks judge full diversely, I do not rejoice, nor yet complain, Divers do judge as they do trow, Yet some there be that take delight, Praying you all that this do read, That Pleasure is mixed with every Pain. Venomous thorns that are so sharp and keen Bear flowers, we see, full fresh and fair of hue, Poison is also put in medicine, And unto man his health doth oft renew. The fire that all things eke consumeth clean, May hurt and heal: then if that this be true, I trust some time my harm may be my health, Since every woe is joined with some wealth. The Courtier's Life. In court to serve decked with fresh array, Of the Mean and Sure Estate. Stand whoso lists upon the slipper' wheel, For grips of death do he too hardly pass guage. THOMAS TUSSER. Amongst the poets dating towards the conclusion of the present period, may be ranked THOMAS TUSSER, author of the first didactic poem in the lanHe was born about 1523, of an ancient family had a good education; and commenced life at court, under the patronage of Lord Paget. Afterwards he practised farming successively at Ratwood in Sussex, Ipswich, Fairsted in Essex, Norwich, and other places; but not succeeding in that walk, he betook himself to other occupations, amongst which were those of a chorister, and, it is said, a fiddler. As might be expected of one so inconstant, he did not prosper in the world, but died poor in London, in 1580. Tusser's poem, entitled a Hondreth Good Points of Husbandrie, which was first published in 1557, is a series of practical directions for farming, expressed in simple and inelegant, but not always dull verse. It was afterwards expanded by other writers, and published under the title of Five Hundreth Points of Good Husbandrie: the last of a considerable number of editions appeared in 1710. [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 fay 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 brewed, long kept it will last, And drawing abide-if ye draw not too fast. |