shone as a satirical and humorous writer, and his great fault is an entire absence of that spirit of refinement which graced the contemporary literature of England. The principal objects of Lyndsay's vituperations were the clergy, whose habits at this period (just before the Reformation) were such as to afford unusually ample scope for the pen of the satirist. Our poet, also, although a state officer, and long a servant to the king, uses little delicacy in exposing the abuses of the court. His chief poems are placed in the following succession by his editor, Mr George Chalmers: The Dreme, written about 1528; The Complaynt, 1529; The Complaynt of the King's Papingo (Peacock), 1530; The Play (or Satire) of the Three Estates, 1535; Kitteis Confession, 1541; The History of Squire Meldrum, 1550; The Monarchie, 1553. The three first of these poems are moralisings upon the state and government of the kingdom, during two of its dismal minorities. The Play is an extraordinary performance, a satire upon the whole of the three political orders-monarch, barons, and clergy-full of humour and grossness, and curiously illustrative of the taste of the times. Notwithstanding its satiric pungency, and, what is apt to be now more surprising, notwithstanding the introduction of indecencies not fit to be described, the Satire of the Three Estates was acted in presence of the court, both at Cupar and Edinburgh, the stage being in the open air. Kitteis Confession is a satire on one of the practices of Roman Catholics. By his various burlesques of that party, he is said to have largely contributed to the progress of the Reformation in Scotland. The History of Squire Meldrum is perhaps the most pleasing of all this author's works. It is considered the last poem that in any degree partakes of the character of the metrical romance.

Of the dexterity with which Lyndsay could point a satirical remark on an error of state policy, we may judge from the following very brief passage of his Complaynt, which relates to the too early committal of the government to James V. It is given in the original spelling.

Imprudently, like witles fules,

Thay tuke the young prince from the scules,
Quhere he, under obedience,
Was learnand vertew and science,
And hastilie pat in his hand
The governance of all Scotland:
As quha wald, in ane stormie blast,
Quhen marinaris been all agast,
Throw danger of the seis rage,
Wald tak ane child of tender age,
Quhilk never had bin on the sey,
And gar his bidding all obey,
Geving him hail the governall,
To ship, marchand, and marinall,
For dreid of rockis and foir land,
To put the ruthir in his hand.

A Praise of his (the Poet's) Lady.
Give place, you ladies, and be gone.
Boast not yourselves at all!
For here at hand approacheth one,
Whose face will stain you all!

The virtue of her lively looks
Excels the precious stone:
I wish to have none other books
To read or look upon.

In each of her two crystal eyes
Smileth a naked boy:

It would you all in heart suffice

To see that lamp of joy.

I think Nature hath lost the mould, Where she her shape did take;

Or else I doubt if Nature could

So fair a creature make.

She may be well compared

Unto the phœnix kind,

Whose like was never seen nor leard, That any man can find.

In life she is Diana chaste,

In troth Penelope,

In word and eke in deed steadfast:

What will you more we say?

Her roseal colour comes and goes
With such a comely grace,
More ruddier too than doth the rose,
Within her lively face.

At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet,
Ne at no wanton play;

Nor gazing in an open street,

Nor gadding as a stray.

The modest mirth that she doth use
Is mix'd with shamefac'dness;
All vice she doth wholly refuse,
And hateth idleness.

O Lord, it is a world to see
How virtue can repair,
And deck in her such honesty
Whom Nature made so fair!

Truly she doth as far exceed
Our women now-a-days,
As doth the gilly flower a weed,
And more a thousand ways.

Amantium Iræ amoris redintegratio est.

[By Richard Edwards, a court musician and poet, 1523-1566.] In going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept,

I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept.

She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, to bring the

babe to rest.

That would not cease, but cried still, in sucking at her breast. She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with

her child,

She rocked it, and rated it, until on her it smil'd; Then did she say, 'Now have I found the proverb true

to prove,

[Characteristic of an Englishman.]

[By Andrew Bourd, physician to Henry VIIL. The lines form an inscription under the picture of an Englishman, naked, with a roll of cloth in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other.]

I am an Englishman, and naked I stand here,
Musing in my mind what garment I shall wear,
For now I will wear this, and now I will wear that,
Now I will wear I cannot tell what:

All new fashions be pleasant to me,
I will have them whether I thrive or thee:
Now I am a fisher, all men on me look
What should I do but set cock on the hoop?
What do I care if all the world me fail,
I will have a garment reach to my tail.

Then I am a minion, for I wear the new guise,

The next year after I hope to be wise

Not only in wearing my gorgeous array,

For I will go to learning a whole summer's day;
I will learn Latin, Hebrew, Greek, and French,

And I will learn Dutch sitting on my bench.
I do fear no man, each man feareth me;

I overcome my adversaries by land and by sea:
I had no peer if to myself I were true;
Because I am not so diverse times do I rue:
Yet I lack nothing, I have all things at will,
If I were wise and would hold myself still,
And meddle with no matters but to me pertaining,
But ever to be true to God and my king.
But I have such matters rolling in my pate,
That I will and do-I cannot tell what.

No man shall let me, but I will have my mind,
And to father, mother, and friend, I'll be unkind.
I will follow mine own mind and mine old trade:
Who shall let me? The devil's nails are unpared.
Yet above all things new fashions I love well,
And to wear them my thrift I will sell.
In all this world I shall have but a time:
Hold the cup, good fellow, here is thine and mine!

The Nut-Brown Maid.

[Regarding the date and author of this piece no certainty exists. Prior, who founded his Henry and Emma upon it, fixes its date about 1400; but others, judging from the comparatively modern language of it, suppose it to have been composed subsequently to the time of Surrey. The poem opens with a declaration of the author, that the faith of woman

is stronger than is generally alleged, in proof of which he proposes to relate the trial to which the Not-Browne Mayde' was exposed by her lover. What follows consists of a dialogue between the pair.]

HE. It standeth so; a deed is do',
Whereof great harm shall grow:
My destiny is for to die

A shameful death, I trow;
Or else to flee the one must be,
None other way I know,
But to withdraw as an outlaw,
And take me to my bow.
Wherefore adieu, my own heart true!
None other rede I can:
For I must to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-O Lord, what is this world's bliss,
That changeth as the moon!
My summer's day in lusty May
Is darked before the noon.

I hear you say, Farewell: Nay, nay,
We depart not so soon.

Why say ye so? whither will ye go !
Alas! what have ye done?
All my welfare to sorrow and care
Should change if ye were gone;
For in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-I can believe, it shall you grieve,
And somewhat you distrain:
But afterward, your paines hard

Within a day or twain

Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take

Comfort to you again.

Why should ye ought, for

to make thought ?

Your labour were in vain.

And thus I do, and pray to you,

As heartily as I can; For I must to the green wood go, Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-Now sith that ye have showed to me

The secret of your mind,

I shall be plain to you again,

Like as ye shall me find.

Sith it is so that ye will go,

I will not live behind;

Shall never be said, the Nut-Brown Maid

Was to her love unkind:

Make you ready, for so am I,
Although it were anon;
For in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-I counsel you, remember how
It is no maiden's law

Nothing to doubt, but to run out
To wood with an outlaw;

For ye must there in your hand bear
A bow, ready to draw ;

And as a thief, thus must you live,
Ever in dread and awe.
Whereby to you great harm might grow :
Yet had I lever than,
That I had to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-I think not nay, but, as ye say,
It is no maiden's lore:

But love may make me for your sake,
As I have said before,

To come on foot, to hunt and shoot

To get us meat in store;
For so that I your company
May have, I ask no more:
From which to part it makes my heart
As cold as any stone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE.-Yet take good heed, for ever I dread

That ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep vallèys,
The snow, the frost, the rain,
The cold, the heat; for, dry or weet,
We must lodge on the plain;
And us above, none other roof
But a brake bush or twain:
Which soon should grieve you, I believe,
And ye would gladly than
That I had to the greenwood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-Sith I have here been partinèr
With you of joy and bliss,
I must also part of your wo
Endure, as reason is.

Yet I am sure of one pleasure,
And, shortly, it is this,

That, where ye be, me seemeth, pardie,
I could not fare amiss.

Without more speech, I you beseech
That ye were soon agone,
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE. If ye go thither, ye must consider,
When ye have list to dine,
There shall no meat be for you gete,
Nor drink, beer, ale, nor wine,
No sheetes clean, to lie between,
Made of thread and twine;

None other house but leaves and boughs,
To cover your head and mine.
Oh mine heart sweet, this evil diet,
Should make you pale and wan;
Wherefore I will to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE. Among the wild deer, such an archér, As men say that ye be,

Ye may not fail of good vittail,

Where is so great plentie. And water clear of the river, Shall be full sweet to me.

With which in heal, I shall right weel

Endure, as ye shall see;

And, ere we go, a bed or two

I can provide anone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE.-Lo yet before, ye must do more,
If ye will go with me;

As cut your hair up by your ear,
Your kirtle to the knee;

With bow in hand, for to withstand

Your enemies, if need be;

And this same night, before day-light,

To wood-ward will I flee.

If that ye will all this fulfill,

Do't shortly as ye can :

Else will I to the green wood go,

Alone, a banished man.

SHE. I shall, as now, do more for you,
Than 'longeth to womanheed,

To short my hair, a bow to bear,

To shoot in time of need.

Oh, my sweet mother, before all other
For you I have most dread;
But now adieu! I must ensue

Where fortune doth me lead.
All this make ye: Now let us flee ;
The day comes fast upon :
For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE.-Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,
And I shall tell you why:

Your appetitel is to be light

Of love, I weel espy:

For like as ye have said to me,

In like wise, hardily,

Ye would answer whoever it were,

In way of company.

It is said of old, soon hot, soon cold;

And so is a woman,

Wherefore I to the wood will go,

Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-If ye take heed, it is no need

Such words to say by me;

For oft ye prayed and me assayed,

Ere I loved you, pardie:

And though that I, of ancestry,

A baron's daughter be,

Yet have you proved how I you loved,

A squire of low degree;

And ever shall, whatso befal;

To die therefore anon;

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE.-A baron's child to be beguiled,

It were a cursed deed!

To be fellàw with an outlaw,

Almighty God forbid !

It better were, the poor squièr

Alone to forest yede,

Than I should say, another day,

That, by my cursed deed,

We were betrayed: wherefore, good maid,

The best rede that I can,

Is, that I to the greenwood go,

Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-Whatever befall, I never shall,
Of this thing you upbraid;
But, if ye go, and leave me so,
Than have ye me betrayed.
Remember weel, how that you deal;

For if ye, as ye said,
Be so unkind to leave behind,

Your love, the Nut-Brown Maid,

Trust me truly, that I shall die
Soon after ye be gone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE. If that ye went, ye should repent;

For in the forest now

I have purveyed me of a maid,

Whom I love more than you ; Another fairèr than ever ye were,

I dare it weel avow,

And of you both each should be wroth
With other, as I trow:

It were mine ease to live in peace;
So will I, if I can;

Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE. Though in the wood I understood
Ye had a paramour,

All this may not remove my thought,
But that I will be your.

And she shall find me soft and kind
And courteous every hour;
Glad to fulfill all that she will
Command me to my power.
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,
Of them I would be one;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-Mine own dear love, I see thee prove
That ye be kind and true;

Of maid and wife, in all my life,

The best that ever I knew.

Be merry and glad; no more be sad;

The case is changed now;

For it were ruth, that, for your truth,

Ye should have cause to rue.

Be not dismayed; whatever I said

To you, when I began;

I will not to the greenwood go:

I am no banished man.

SHE. These tidings be more glad to me,

Than to be made a queen,

If I were sure they would endure:

But it is often seen,

When men will break promise, they speak

The wordes on the spleen.

Ye shape some wile me to beguile,

And steal from me, I ween:

Than were the case worse than it was,

And I more woe-begone:

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE. Ye shall not need further to dread :

I will not disparage,

You (God defend!) sith ye descend

Of so great a lineage.

Now understand; to Westmoreland,

Which is mine heritage,

I will you bring; and with a ring,

By way of marriage,

I will you take, and lady make,

As shortly as I can:

Thus have you won an earl's son,

And not a banished man.