Tot laureas, nec si per æthram Cossere saltus ninguidi, et Alpium Defensa Roma, et capta Valentia, Barbarica face liberatus. Equor procellis, terra paludibus, Munierant animos Caletum Loræna virtus, sueta per invia Laude nova veterem refellit. Ferox BRITANNUS viribus antehac Regina, pacem nescia perpeti Huic luce terror Martius assonat, Fame in her narrative should give To range, with free prerogative, What were the year's achievements? first, To rescue Rome, capture Plaisance, Such was, within the year's expanse, But Calais yet remained unwon- And pride of war; fierce Amazon! But even she hath proven frail, Climb, storm, and seize? Thee let the men of England dread, And thee!-that thy triumphant tread Let ruthless MARY learn from hence At length have woken. May evil counsels prove the bane Infest her palace; And may she of God's vengeance drain Every schoolboy knows that this event broke Queen Mary's heart, so inconsolable was she for the loss of those "keys of France" which the monarchs of England, from Edward to the bluff Harry, had gloried in wearing suspended to the royal girdle. * Buchanan appears to have the following verse of Hesiod in view: Την μεν Πήγασος εελε καί εσθλος Βελλεροφωντης.-Theog. Of Buchanan's career on his return to Scotland, and his ronduct as a politician and courtier, I shall say nothing. As a poet, his career terminated when the gates of state intrigue were thrown open to him, so I bid him farewell on the threshold. His Maia Calenda, his “Epicædium on the death of John Calvin," his poem De Sphærd, his translations from Euripides, his elegiac poetry, all his titles to renown were already won. By the way, John Milton has translated his tragedy of Baptistes, if we are to credit Peck. Certain it is that Buchanan's De Jure Regni apud Scotos, a wonderful step in radicalism for that day, was the prototype of the Cromwellian secretary's Defensio pro Populo Anglicano. It appears that Buchanan had some share in the education of Michel Montaigne,-a glorious feather in his cap. Crichton was certainly his scholar: and no better proof of the fact can be afforded than the following lyric (from the MS. in my possession), a copy of which I fancy got abroad in Burns's time, for he has somehow transferred the sentiments it expresses, most literally. However, it is clear that Crichton's claim cannot be invalidated by any ex post facto concern. The thing speaks for itself. Jam te senilem, jam veterem vocant; Propago nobis orta parentibus, Usque sinu recreamur ambo; Qualis eram nitidâ juventâ. Patris voluptas quanta domesticam (Dum corde mater palpitat intimo) Videre natorum coronam Divitias humilis tabernæ! Videre natos reddere moribus Mores parentum, reddere vultibus Vultus, et exemplo fideles Scandere cum proavis Olympum. Heu! mi Joannes, Temporis alite Penna quot anni, quotque boni dies Utrumque fugerunt! suprema Jamque brevi properabit hora.Mortis prehendit dextera conjuges Non imparatos, non timidos mori, Vitâque functos innocenti, Nec sine spe melioris ævi! Culmine quid remoramur ultrà? Though some folks say you're old, John, But I think you're aye the same to me, John Anderson my jo, John, We've seen our bairnie's bairns And so are ye in mine, John- John Anderson my jo, John, In our footsteps to go, John Anderson my jo, John, Frae year to year we've past, John Anderson my jo, John, We've clambed the hill togither, When Harrison Ainsworth, then a young writer of promise, took up James Crichton in place of Dick Turpin, a noble field lay before him. I sketched the plan, and pointed out to him that the story, in all biographies, of Crichton's having been killed in a drunken brawl at Mantua, by Duke Gonzaga, on the 3rd July, 1583, was manifestly untrue, as there was, to my knowledge, at Paris, in the Bibliothèque du Roi, a printed broadsheet of verses by him, on the death of St. Carlo Borromeo, who died on the 4th November, 1584 (a fact he was able to verify by getting another copy from Milan). From other sources I showed that there were secret reasons for his reported death, that he lay concealed at Venice as corrector of the press for Aldus Manutius,* up to 1585 was made private secretary at Rome to Pope Peretti when "Sixtus Quintus" became monarch in central Italy, and that he was the life and soul of that great man's short reign; I had proof that he was at Lisbon in 1587, and that, in 1588, he sailed thence with his friend Lope de Vega on board the Invincible Armada, to avenge the death of Mary, Queen of Scots. That his galleon, driven up the German sea and rounding Scotland, was wrecked in the winter of that year on the coast of Ayrshire. That disgusted with the triumphant reign of Elizabeth, the revolt of the Low Countries from Spain, the edict of Nantes granted to the Huguenots by Henri Quatre, and the general aspect of Europe, he gave up continental affairs, settled down as a tranquil farmer, married a highland lassie, and lived to a good old age, as evidenced by his well-authenticated song of John Anderson my jo. This startling narrative of what was in some sort the posthumous history of his hero, Ainsworth did not grapple with, but stopped at Paris, making him a kind of fencing-master, rope-dancer, and court dandy, marrying him to some incredible princess of the blood, and so forth. That Crichton, during his long life in Ayrshire, under an humbler name, was author of most of the popular songs and tunes that have enriched the Land o' Cakes is known to a few only; but Robert Burns was in the secret, as the reader has already discovered. In 1841, on returning from Hungary and Asia Minor by the south of France, I learnt that Ainsworth had left the tale of Crichton half told, and had taken up with Blueskin and Jack Sheppard, Flitches of Bacon and Lancashire Witches, and thought such things were "literature." Hence this ballad, in which I have endeavoured to express what I know would have been the sentiments of old Prout, in language as near his own as I can command. Paris, Nov. 1, 1859. F. M. * The presses of Aldus, and Crichton's share in their efficiency, suggest to me the propriety of acknowledging the debt due by the defunct Prout to the keen and accurate supervision of Mr. W. S. Bohn while these sheets were in progress. Quick perception, and intimate acquaintance with the several languages used by Prout, rectified many errors, and happy tact restored his text in many passages. |