'Of all these maidens mild as mead,
Was none so jimp as Gillie.
As any rose her rude[3] was red--
Her lire[4] like any lillie.
But yellow, yellow was her head,
And she of love so silly;
Though all her kin had sworn her dead,
She would have none but Willie,
Alone that day.
'She scorn'd Jock, and scripped at him,
And murgeon'd him with mocks--
He would have loved her--she would not let him,
For all his yellow locks.
He cherisht her--she bade go chat him--
She counted him not two clocks.
So shamefully his short jack[5] set him,
His legs were like two rocks,
Or rungs that day.'
[1] 'Mowes:' joke.
[2] 'Powes:' heads.
[3] 'Rude:' complexion.
[4] 'Lire:' flesh, skill.
[5] 'Jack:' jacket.
Our readers will perceive the resemblance, both in spirit and in form of
verse, between this old poem and the 'Holy Fair,' and other productions
of Burns.
James, cut off in the prime of life, may almost be called the abortive
Alfred of Scotland. Had he lived, he might have made important
contributions to her literature as well as laws, and given her a
standing among the nations of Europe, which it took long ages, and even
an incorporation with England, to secure. As it is, he stands high on
the list of royal authors, and of those kings who, whether authors or
not, have felt that nations cannot live on bread alone, and who have
sought their intellectual culture as an object not inferior to their
physical comfort. It is not, perhaps, too much to say, that no man or
woman of genius has sate either on the Scotch or English throne since,
except Cromwell, to whom, however, the term 'genius,' in its common
sense, seems ludicrously inadequate. James V. had some of the erratic
qualities of the poetic tribe, but his claim to the songs--such as the
'Gaberlunzie Man'--which go under his name, is exceedingly doubtful.
James VI. was a pedant, without being a scholar--a rhymester, not a
poet. Of the rest we need not speak. Seldom has the sceptre become an
Aaron's rod, and flourished with the buds and blossoms of song. In our
annals there has been one, and but one 'Royal Poet.'
THE KING THUS DESCRIBES THE APPEARANCE OF HIS MISTRESS,
WHEN HE FIRST SAW HER FROM A WINDOW OF HIS PRISON
AT WINDSOR.