Transcriber's Note
Bold text is marked with =equals signs=, and italics with _underscores_.
SCOTTISH POETRY OF THE
SIXTEENTH CENTURY
_Published by_
WILLIAM HODGE & CO., Glasgow
WILLIAMS & NORGATE, London and Edinburgh
_Abbotsford Series_
of the
_Scottish Poets_
Edited by GEORGE EYRE-TODD
SCOTTISH POETRY OF THE
SIXTEENTH CENTURY
SIR DAVID LYNDSAY
JOHN BELLENDEN
KING JAMES THE FIFTH
SIR RICHARD MAITLAND
ALEXANDER SCOT
ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE
GLASGOW: WILLIAM HODGE & CO
1892
NOTE.
Many of the best editions of the Scottish poets, even of recent date,
increase the difficulties of archaic language by such unnecessary
stumbling-blocks as the use of the old straight _s_, and of Anglo-Saxon
symbols for certain letters. Some even appear in the added obscurity
of Old English type. And when these hindrances are not present, an
irritating punctuation too often remains a barrier to all enjoyment.
To these obstacles, as much, perhaps, as to the actual scarcity and
costliness of the works, is to be attributed the popular neglect
of a noble heritage in recent years. In the present volume, as in
the previous volumes of this series, an effort has been made, while
preserving the text intact in its original form, to improve in these
respects upon the readableness of previous editions. A running glossary
has, for the same object, been furnished in the margin of each page.
For practical perusal of the text, as poetry, it is believed that this
arrangement, translating obsolete words, as it does, without a break
in the reading, is better than footnotes, or a glossary at the end of
the volume. Few now-a-days, it is to be feared, save the most ardent
students, can afford the time necessary for the elucidation by means
of a dictionary even of so short a poem as “Chrystis Kirk on the Grene.”
While avoiding a burden of distracting comment, all necessary
information, it is hoped, has been included in the separate
introductions.
All the poems not otherwise indicated are here printed entire; and in
particular it may be pointed out that the four pieces attributed to
King James the Fifth are now reproduced complete and together for the
first time since 1786.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
SCOTTISH POETRY OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY, 1
SIR DAVID LYNDSAY, 9
The Dreme, 29
The Testament and Complaynt of our Soverane Lordis Papyngo, 40
The Justing Betuix James Watsoun and Jhone Barbour, 64
Kitteis Confessioun, 67
Squyer Meldrumis Justyng, 72
The Squyeris Adew, 84
Ane Pleasant Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis, 85
Daybreak in May, 102
JOHN BELLENDEN, 105
Virtew and Vyce, 115
Nobilnes, 129
Address to Bellona and King James V., 132
The Excusation of the Prentar, 134
Anno Domini, 136
KING JAMES THE FIFTH, 139
Peblis to the Play, 159
Chrystis Kirk on the Grene, 168
The Gaberlunzieman, 176
The Jolly Beggar, 180
SIR RICHARD MAITLAND, 183
Satire on the Age, 195
Satire on the Toun Ladyes, 199
Na Kyndnes at Court without Siller, 204
On the Folye of ane Auld Manis Maryand ane Young Woman, 206
Aganis the Theivis of Liddisdaill, 208
Advyce to Lesom Mirriness, 212
ALEXANDER SCOT, 215
The Justing and Debait vp at the Dram betuix
William Adamsone and Johine Sym, 221
Hence, Hairt, 229
Oppressit Hairt Indure, 231
To Luve Vnluvit, 234
Lo, Quhat it is to Lufe, 236
ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE, 237
The Cherrie and the Slae, 245
The Night is Neir Gone, 263
An Admonitioun to Young Lassis, 266
To His Maistres, 267
To His Maistres, 268
To Thé for Me, 269
SCOTTISH POETRY OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
Flodden Field, that long slope looking north-ward by the “deep and dark
and sullen Till,” where on a September afternoon in 1513 the flower
of Scotland fell round James the Fourth, stands darkly marked on the
page of history both of the Scottish nation and of Scottish poetry.
It was for the North the burial-place of one era and the birth-place
of another. The English billmen who on Flodden closed round the last
desperate ring of Scottish spears hewed down with their ghastly weapons
not only James himself and his nobles, but the feudal system in church
and state, with all that sprang from it, the civilization and poetry
of the Middle Ages in Scotland. The national spirit which had burst
into leaf at Bannockburn was touched now as by an autumn frost, and a
time of storm and darkness must ensue before the country could feel the
re-awakening influences of a new spring. The mediæval world, with its
charm and its chivalry, its splendour, cruelty, and power, was passing
away, while the modern world was in the throes of being born.
Had James IV. lived he would doubtless have continued, firm-handed as
he was, to hold in check both churchmen and nobles, and the reforms
which were in the air might have taken effect like leaven, and not,
as they did, like gunpowder. They might have been grafted upon the
existing stem, as in England, instead of overturning it. But during the
long minority of James V. the abuses of the feudal system, political
and ecclesiastical, attained too rank a growth to be pruned by the hand
of that king when he came of age, notwithstanding his energy and good
intentions. The system, as Macaulay has pointed out, had served its
purpose in the Middle Ages as perhaps no more modern system could have
done. In the feudal castles and monasteries had been preserved certain
lights of chivalry and learning which, without such shelter, must, amid
the storms of these centuries, have flickered and disappeared. These
lights were now, however, burning more and more dimly. The corruptions
of the clergy and the rapacity of the nobles outran all bounds,
and between the two no man’s life was safe and no woman’s honour.
Like other human institutions, therefore, which have outlived their
usefulness, feudalism was doomed.
Renaissance was to come, not from within, but from without, and in
the north the new influence took the form of a militant religious
enthusiasm. Already in James the Fourth’s time the war-horns of the
Reformation sounded on the Continent had made their echoes heard in
Scotland; and during the reign of his successor these were taken up
and resounded at home with tremendous effect by the iconoclast trio,
Lyndsay, Buchanan, and Knox. The new era was to be one of strife and
tempest, in which the root of poesy was little likely to bring to
perfection its rarest blossoms.
Goethe has said that the Reformation cost Europe three centuries’
growth of civilization. So far as poetry is concerned the statement
must be taken as true in Scotland to a modified extent. No one would
be so foolish as to deny the immense advantages, in the purification
of morals and the setting up of new perfervid ideals, which the
Reformation brought to the north. But it is too frequently forgotten
that the era of Scotland’s highest achievement in arms and in poetry
was not the era of Knox and Buchanan, but the era of Bishop Lamberton,
Archdeacon Barbour,[1] and the preaching friar Dunbar. Against the
unquestionable benefits of the Reformation in Scotland must be set
the fact that it not only broke the stem of the existing feudal
civilization, but itself, intent only upon things of a future life, and
modelled overmuch upon Judaic ideals, gave scant encouragement to the
carnal arts of this world.
[1] Respectively the friend and the historian of the Bruce.
There is strong reason to believe that Scottish character, so far
as social qualities go, suffered a certain withering change in the
sixteenth century. Under feudalism, with all its faults, the country
had been characterized by a generous joyousness which may be read
between the lines of its contemporary history and poetry. Bruce, in
the intervals of his heroic undertaking, could recite long romances
of chivalry. The accomplishments of James I. as musician, poet, and
player at all games and sports, are too well known to need repetition.
Blind Harry was only one of the wandering minstrels who everywhere
earned feast and bed by their entertainments. And the madcap court
of James IV. lives in the poems of William Dunbar and the letters of
the Spanish ambassador, Pedro de Ayala. All this was changed at the
Reformation, and there seems to have been imposed then upon the life
of the people a certain ascetic seriousness which has left its traces
on the national character to the present day. Mirth and entertainment
of all sorts not strictly religious were severely discountenanced by
the Reformers, as tending to render this life too attractive, and to
withdraw attention from the great object of existence, preparation for
the tomb. The attitude of the new rulers towards poetical composition
in particular may be judged from two instances. In 1576, in the first
book printed in Gaelic--Knox’s _Forms of Prayer and Catechism_--Bishop
Carswell, the translator, in his preface condemns with pious severity
the Highlanders’ enjoyment of songs and histories “concerning warriors
and champions, and Fingal the son of Comhal, with his heroes.” And the
title-page of that curious collection, _The Gude and Godlie Ballates_,
published in 1578,[2] bears that the contents consist in great part
of pious compositions “changed out of prophaine Sangis, for avoyding
of sinne and harlotrie.” So strongly, indeed, burned the ardour of
the Reformers that for a considerable period nothing was printed in
the Scottish press but what was tinged with religion in the strictest
sense; and the effect of the condemnation of “profane” literature at
that time is to be traced in the prejudice with which novel-reading has
been regarded in Scotland almost to the present day.
[2] Included in Dalzell’s _Scotish Poems of the XVIth Century_, Edin.
1801, and reprinted in 1868. The following opening lines afford a
specimen of the adaptation of a “prophaine sang”:--
Quho is at my windo? who? who?
Goe from my windo; goe, goe:
Quha calles there, so like ane stranger?
Goe from my windo, goe.
Lord, I am heir, ane wratched mortall
That for thy mercie dois crie and call
Vnto thee, my Lord Celestiall.
See who is at my window, who.
There was in the air, besides, another depressing influence which must
not be overlooked.
Simultaneously with the dawn of the Reformation the Scottish
language began to decay. The causes of this decay are sufficiently
ascertained.[3] For the first forty years of the Reformation movement
there was no translation of the Scriptures into the northern dialect.
The copies used were obtained from England. Carried everywhere by the
popular wave, the English book, as it was called, must by itself have
done much to change the tongue of the country. Further, as the Catholic
party in Scotland naturally looked for support to the ancient alliance
with Catholic France, the adherents of Protestantism were forced into
intimate relations and constant communication with Protestant England.
In the works of Sir David Lyndsay, the earliest poet of the new period,
the influence of this connection is seen taking effect, English forms
of words, like _go_, _also_, and _one_, constantly taking the place of
the mediæval Scottish. John Knox was a greater innovator than Lyndsay
in this respect; and the deterioration went steadily on until, shortly
after the close of the century, the _coup de grâce_ was given to the
tongue by the transference of James VI. and his court to England. Upon
that event Lowland Scottish went out of favour, and practically ceased
to be a literary language.[4]
[3] The influences which went to fashion and to disintegrate the speech
of the North are very clearly and systematically traced in Dr. J. A.
H. Murray’s introduction to his _Dialect of the Southern Counties of
Scotland_, London, 1873.
[4] Dr. Murray in a note (p. 71) upon the dialect of Scottish poets of
the modern period remarks, “‘Scots wha hae’ is _fancy_ Scotch--that is,
it is merely the English ‘Scots who have,’ spelled as Scotch. Barbour
would have written ‘Scottis at hes’; Dunbar or Douglas, ‘Scottis
quhilkis hes’; and even Henry Charteris, in the end of the sixteenth
century, ‘Scottis quha hes.’”
In face of these adverse influences--the decay of the language,
religious disfavour, and the overturn of the ancient social system--a
brilliant poetic era was not to be looked for in Scotland in the
sixteenth century. The marvel is that so much was produced that had
vigour, humour, and tenderness. Justice has hardly yet been done to
a period which, opening with the iconoclast thunders of Sir David
Lyndsay, included the compositions of the gallant James V., of “the
Scottish Anacreon” Alexander Scot, and of the author of “The Cherrie
and the Slae.” These Scottish singers have their own place and charm,
and it has to be remembered that their work was composed while the
strange silence of more than a hundred years which followed the death
of Chaucer south of the Tweed was still all but unbroken.
The early period of Scottish poetry, corresponding to the heroic
era of the national history, had been one of geste, chronicle, and
patriotic epic, and remains illustrious with the names of Thomas the
Rhymer, Barbour, Wyntoun, and Henry the Minstrel. The mediæval period,
that in which the temper of the nation changed from one of strenuous,
single-hearted purpose to one of conscious reflection, individual
assertion, and restless personal desire, had been the period in which,
lit anew by the torch of Chaucer, and fed by the genius of James I.,
Henryson, Dunbar, and Douglas, Scottish poetry shot forth its most
splendid flame. The sixteenth century, no less clearly marked, was
a period of change. With Flodden Field and the Reformation the old
order of things passed away. As the feudalism of the Middle Ages
passed out of church and state the mediæval spirit passed out of the
national poetry, and amid the strife of new ideals the last songs were
sung in the national language of Scotland. Before the close of the
century a new light had risen in the south, the brilliant Elizabethan
constellation was flashing into fire, and under its influence the
singers of the north were to make a new departure, and, like their
kings who were seated on the English throne, were to adopt the accents
of the southern tongue.
SIR DAVID LYNDSAY.
For more than two hundred years, until the appearance of Robert Burns,
the most popular of all the Scottish poets was Sir David Lyndsay of
the Mount. During that time more than twenty editions of his works
were published; next to the Bible they were perhaps the most familiar
reading of the people; and in any question of phraseology, “Ye’ll no
fin’ that in Davie Lyndsay” was a common condemnation against which
there was no appeal. Popularity is not always a sign of worth; but
in Lyndsay’s case its justice must be admitted. The qualities which
made him popular also make him great. No more honest, fearless, and
admirable figure stands out from the page of Scottish history than
that of this clear-sighted and true-hearted poet, who in a corrupt age
filled so many parts without question and without stain. If effects are
to be considered in judgment, a great place must be accorded the man
who began by moulding the mind of a prince and ended by reforming that
of a nation.
The Juvenal of Scotland was descended from a younger branch of the
Lyndsays of the Byres in Haddingtonshire, and is believed to have been
born in 1490 either at The Mount, near Cupar-Fife, or at Garleton, then
Garmylton, in East Lothian. From the former small estate the poet’s
father and himself in succession took their title, but the latter
was apparently the chief residence of the family. There were grammar
schools then established both in Haddington and in Cupar; and at one of
these, it is probable, the poet received his early education. All that
is definitely known of his early years, however, has been gathered from
the fact that his name appears in 1508 or 1509 among the _Incorporati_
or fourth-year students of St. Salvator’s College, St. Andrews. He must
therefore have matriculated there in 1505, the year of John Knox’s
birth. Next Lyndsay’s name in the register follows that of David
Beaton, afterwards archbishop and cardinal, and the most formidable
opponent of the Reformation in Scotland. It has been inferred from two
references in his poems[5] that upon leaving college Lyndsay visited
the Continent and travelled as far as Italy. But information on the
subject remains uncertain.
[5] From an eye-witnesslike allusion to the walking-length of Italian
ladies’ dresses in his “Contemptioun of Syde Taillis,” and from the
Courteour’s speech in “The Monarche” (line 5417) alluding apparently to
the Pope’s presence at the siege of Mirandola in 1511.
“I saw Pape Julius manfullye
Passe to the feild tryumphantlye
With ane rycht aufull ordinance
Contrar Lowis, the kyng of France.”
The next definite notice shows him attached to the royal court, and
taking part in the amusements which were there in vogue. It is an
entry in the treasurer’s accounts on 12th October, 1511, of £3 4s.
for blue and yellow taffeties “to be a play coat to David Lyndsay
for the play playit in the king and queen’s presence in the Abbey of
Holyrood.” In the same year appear the first quarterly payments of
an annual salary of £40, which he received henceforth for his duties
at court. The exact position which he at first filled is uncertain,
but on the birth of Prince James, afterwards James V., on 12th April,
1512, Lyndsay was appointed chief page or usher to the infant. The
description of his services in this capacity makes a delightful picture
in the “Epistil to the Kingis Grace” prefixed to “The Dreme,” and again
in the “Complaynt” of 1529. The lines of the latter may be quoted--
I tak the Quenis Grace, thy mother,
My Lord Chancelare, and mony uther,
Thy Nowreis, and thy auld Maistres,
I tak thame all to beir wytnes;
Auld Willie Dillie, wer he on lyve,
My lyfe full weill he could discryve:
Quhow, as ane chapman beris his pak,
I bure thy Grace upon my bak,
And sumtymes, strydlingis on my nek,
Dansand with mony bend and bek.
The first sillabis that thow did mute
Was PA, DA LYN,[6] upon the lute;
Than playit I twenty spryngis, perqueir,
Quhilk wes gret piete for to heir.
Fra play thow leit me never rest,
Bot Gynkartoun[7] thow lufit ay best;
And ay, quhen thow come frome the scule
Than I behuffit to play the fule;
As I at lenth, in-to my Dreme
My sindry servyce did expreme.
Thocht it bene better, as sayis the wyse,
Hape to the court nor gude servyce,
I wate thow luffit me better, than,
Nor, now, sum wyfe dois hir gude-man.
Than men tyll uther did recorde,
Said Lyndesay wald be maid ane lord:
Thow hes maid lordis, Schir, be Sanct Geill,
Of sum that hes nocht servit so weill.
[6] Play, Davie Lyndsay.
[7] An old Scottish tune.
Whatever may have been the severity of character which in other matters
James sometimes considered it his duty to show, there remains as
testimony to the real nature of “the King of the Commons” that he never
forgot these early services of his faithful attendant.
When the prince was a year old, that is, in 1513, just before Flodden,
Lyndsay was witness to that strange scene in the Church of St. Michael
in Linlithgow which is related upon his authority both by Pitscottie
and Buchanan, and which is popularly known through Sir Walter Scott’s
version in _Marmion_. On the eve of setting forth upon his fatal
campaign James IV., according to Pitscottie, was with his nobles
attending prayers in the church at Linlithgow when a tall man came in,
roughly clad in a blue gown and bare-headed, with a great pikestaff in
his hand, “cryand and spearand for the King.” He advanced to James,
and with small reverence laid his arm on the royal praying-desk. “Sir
King,” he said, “my mother has sent me to you desiring you not to
passe, at this time, where thou art purposed; for if thou does thou
wilt not fair well in thy journey, nor none that passeth with thee.
Further, she bade ye melle with no woman, nor use their counsell, nor
let them touch thy body, nor thou theirs; for, and thou do it, thou
wilt be confounded and brought to shame.” “Be this man,” proceeds the
chronicler, “had spoken thir words unto the King’s Grace, the Even-song
was neere doone, and the King paused on thir words, studying to give
him an answer; but in the mean time, before the King’s eyes, and in
presence of all the Lords that were about him for the time, this man
vanished away, and could no wayes be seene nor comprehended, but
vanished away as he had beene ane blink of the sunne, or ane whiss of
the whirlwind, and could no more be seene.”
It has been suggested that the episode might be an effort of Queen
Margaret to dissuade her husband from the campaign by working upon his
superstition, and that Lyndsay, through whose hands the apparition
“vanished away,” probably knew more of the affair than he cared to
confess. The whole matter, however, is wrapped up in mystery.
After the death of James IV. at Flodden, Lyndsay appears to have
remained in constant attendance upon the young king, sometimes being
styled “the Kingis maister usher,” sometimes “the Kingis maister of
houshald.” It was probably in the course of these duties that he made
the acquaintance of the lady who became his wife. Whether she was
related to the great historic house is unknown, but her name was
Janet Douglas, and from numerous entries in the treasurer’s accounts
she appears, notwithstanding her marriage, to have held the post of
sempstress to the king till the end of his reign. The union took place
about the year 1522.
In 1524 affairs in Scotland took a turn which for a time deprived
Lyndsay of his office. On 20th May in that year the Regent Albany
finally retired to France, and the reins of government were assumed by
Queen Margaret, who, to strengthen her position against her divorced
husband, the powerful Earl of Angus, withdrew the young prince from his
tutors, and placed the sceptre nominally in his hand. Angus, however,
prevailed, and getting possession of the person of James, ruled
Scotland in the Douglas interest for four years. Lyndsay’s opinion of
the effect of this proceeding may be gathered from the lines of his
“Complaynt”--
The Kyng was bot twelf yeris of aige
Quhen new rewlaris come, in thair raige,
For Commonweill makand no cair,
Bot for thair proffeit singulair.
Imprudentlie, lyk wytles fuilis,
Thay tuke that young Prince frome the scuilis,
Quhare he, under obedience,
Was lernand vertew and science,
And haistelie platt in his hand
The governance of all Scotland;
As quho wald, in ane stormye blast,
Quhen marinaris bene all agast
Throw dainger of the seis raige,
Wald tak ane chylde of tender aige
Quhilk never had bene on the sey,
And to his biddyng all obey,
Gevyng hym haill the governall
Off schip, marchand, and marinall,
For dreid of rockis and foreland,
To put the ruther in his hand.
Without Goddis grace is no refuge:
Geve thare be dainger ye may juge.
I gyf thame to the Devyll of Hell
Quhilk first devysit that counsell!
I wyll nocht say that it was treassoun,
Bot I dar sweir it was no reassoun.
I pray God, lat me never se ryng,
In-to this realme, so young ane Kyng!
Discharged from his duties, though, at the instance of James, his
salary continued to be paid, Lyndsay retired to his estates, and
occupied his leisure by casting into verse some of his reflections upon
the events and character of his time. These, in the form of a scarcely
veiled satire, with a finely poetic setting, he published under the
title of “The Dreme,” probably in 1528. In the autumn of the same
year, it is believed, he wrote his “Complaynt to the Kingis Grace,” a
performance in which, as has been seen, he recounts his early services,
and asks some token of royal recognition, declaiming fearlessly the
abuses which have been practised by the recent governors of the realm,
and ending with congratulations and sound counsel on James’s own sudden
assumption of power.
This reminder would hardly appear to have been needed by the young
king. On a night in May of that year James had escaped from Falkland,
and dashing through the defiles of the Ochils with only a couple of
grooms in his train, had established himself in Stirling, successfully
defied the Douglas power, and, though no more than sixteen years of
age, had in a few hours made himself absolute master of Scotland.
Among the first to benefit by his assumption of power were his old
attendants. His chaplain, Sir James Inglis, he made Abbot of Culross;
his tutor, Gavin Dunbar, he made Archbishop of Glasgow, and afterwards
Lord High Chancellor; while upon Lyndsay he conferred the honour of
knighthood and appointed him Lyon King at Arms.
This was in 1529, and the appointment marks Lyndsay’s entry into the
larger public life of his time. The office of the Chief Herald was then
an active one, its holder being employed on frequent state envoys to
foreign courts. Thus in 1531 Lyndsay was sent to the Netherlands to
renew a commercial treaty of James I. which had just lapsed. Upon that
occasion he had an interview at Brussels with the Queen of Hungary,
then Regent of the Netherlands, and her brother the Emperor Charles V.;
and in a letter still extant[8] he describes the tournaments, of which
he was spectator, at the royal court.
[8] Given in facsimile by Mr. Laing in his introduction to Lyndsay’s
works, p. xxiv.
Again, in 1536, he was one of the embassy sent to France to conclude
a marriage between James and Marie de Bourbon, daughter of the Duc de
Vendôme. Negotiations in this case were all but completed when by the
personal interference of James the treaty was broken off and espousals
arranged instead with Magdalene, the daughter of the French king,
Francis I.
The sad sequel of this romantic union is well known. The fate of the
fragile young princess formed the subject of Lyndsay’s elegy, “The
Deploratioun of the Deith of Quene Magdalene.”
Strangely enough, the Lyon Herald’s next employment was, in the
following year, the superintendence of ceremonies at reception of
James’s new bride, Mary, the daughter of the Duc de Guise. These,
like the other events of the time, are fully described by Lindsay of
Pitscottie, the contemporary historian. Among other “fersis and playis”
they included one curious device. “And first sche was receivit at the
New Abbay yet (gate); upon the eist syd thairof thair wes maid to hir
ane triumphant arch be Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, knicht, alias
Lyon Kyng at Armis, quha caussit ane greyt cloud to cum out of the
hevins down abone the yeit; out the quhilk cloude come downe ane fair
Lady most lyk ane angell, having the keyis of Scotland in hir hand,
and delyverit thayme to the Queinis grace in signe and taikin that all
the harts of Scotland wer opin for the receveing of hir Grace; withe
certane Oratiouns maid be the said Sir David to the Quein’s Grace,
desyring hir to feir hir God, and to serve him, and to reverence and
obey hir husband, and keip her awin body clein, according to God’s will
and commandment.”[9]
[9] Pitscottie’s _History_, Edin. 1728, p. 160.
A more momentous piece of work, and one more worthy of the poet’s
genius, was Lyndsay’s next performance. In 1530, in his “Testament and
Complaynt of our Soverane Lordis Papyngo,” he had already ventured with
great boldness to expose the disorders of the time in church affairs.
He now went further, and in the guise of a stage-play attacked with
fearless and biting satire the corruptions of clergy and nobles. This
play, “Ane Pleasant Satyre of the thrie Estaitis,” appears to have been
first performed at Linlithgow at the feast of Epiphany on 6th January,
1539-40, when, occupying no less than nine hours in representation,[10]
it was witnessed by the king, the queen, and ladies of the court, the
bishops, nobles, and a great gathering of people.
[10] Charteris’s Preface to Lyndsay’s works, Edin. 1582.
As Lyon Herald, Lyndsay superintended the preparation of the _Register
of Arms_ of the Scottish nobility and gentry. This work, now in the
Advocates’ Library, Mr. Laing commends for its careful execution and
proper emblazonment of the arms, as most creditable to the state of
heraldic art in Scotland. It was completed in 1542.
On the 14th of December in the same year Lyndsay was one of those who
stood by the bedside of the dying king at Falkland, when, overwhelmed
by sorrow and disappointment, he “turned his back to his lordis and his
face to the wall,” and presently passed away. The friendship between
the king and the poet, which had begun in the prince’s cradle-days,
appears to have had not a single break, one of James’ last acts being
to assign to Lyndsay, “during all the days of his life, two chalders of
oats, for horse-corn, out of the King’s lands of Dynmure in Fife.”
The Lyon Herald survived his master about fifteen years, and lived to
see signs that the reforms which he had urged would one day be carried
out.
In 1546 occurred the first crisis of the Reformation. In consequence
of the cruel burning of George Wishart at St. Andrews in that year,
the castle there was stormed by Norman Lesley and fifteen others, and
Cardinal Beaton, the prelate most obnoxious to the reforming party, was
assassinated. On the 4th of August, Lyndsay, as commissioner for the
burgh of Cupar, was in his seat in Parliament when the writ of treason
was issued against the assassins; and on the 17th, as Lyon Herald, he
appeared with a trumpeter before the castle in the vain effort to bring
the garrison to terms. But whatever might be his official duties, his
sympathies were clearly on the side of the reformers. Regarding the
death of Beaton he wrote, probably sometime in the following year, his
satire, the “Tragedie of the Cardinall”; and in May, 1547, he was one
of the inner circle of those who, in the parish church of St. Andrews,
gave John Knox his unexpected but memorable call to the ministry.
In 1548 Lyndsay was sent to Denmark to negotiate a treaty of free trade
in corn, and with the successful issue of this embassy he appears to
have closed his career as envoy to foreign courts. Henceforth he seems
to have devoted himself to poetical composition. In 1550 appeared what
has been esteemed by some critics the most pleasing of all his works,
“The Historie and Testament of Squyer Meldrum,” a romance somewhat in
the style of the ancient heroic narratives, founded on the adventures
of an actual personage of his own day. And in 1553 he finished his last
and longest work, “The Monarche, Ane Dialog betuix Experience and Ane
Courteour on the Miserabyll Estait of the World.”
Once more he appears in history in the dignity of his office as Lyon
King. On 16th January, 1554-5, he presided at a chapter of heralds
convened at Holyrood for the trial and punishment of William Crawar, a
messenger, for abuse of his function. But before the 18th of April in
the same year he had passed away. By a letter of that date in the Privy
Seal Register it appears that his wife had predeceased him, and that,
in the absence of children, his estates were inherited by his younger
brother, Alexander Lyndsay.
Four years later the Reformation, of which also he may be said to have
been the Lyon Herald, had begun in earnest. John Knox had returned to
Scotland, the assassins of Beaton had received pardon, and the leaders
of the new church which was to rise out of the ashes of the old had
assumed the name of “The Congregation.”
Such was the consistent career of the poet who, in the words of Dryden,
“lashed vice into reformation” in Scotland. In high position, with
everything to lose and nothing to gain by the part he took, he must
be adjudged entire disinterestedness in his efforts. Patriotism, the
virtue which more than any other has from century to century made
the renown of Scotland, must be acknowledged as his chief motive.
Of his “Dreme” one writer has said, “We almost doubt if there is to
be found anywhere except in the old Hebrew prophets a purer or more
earnest breathing of the patriotic spirit.” His attack, it is true,
was directed, not against the doctrines, but merely against the abuses
of the church, a fact which sufficiently accounts for his freedom
from persecution. There can be no question, however, that but for the
brilliant, burning satire of Lyndsay the later work of the reformers
would have proved infinitely more arduous, and might have been
indefinitely delayed. Professor Nichol[11] has compared the service
rendered by Lyndsay in Scotland to that rendered in Holland by Erasmus.
All great movements probably have had some such forerunner, from John
the Baptist downwards. At anyrate it is certain that when Lyndsay laid
down his pen the time was ripe for Knox to mount the pulpit.
[11] General introduction to Lyndsay’s works, Early English Text
Society’s edition.
During the early troubles of the Reformation the works of Lyndsay were,
it is said, printed by stealth; and Pitscottie states that an Act of
Assembly ordered them to be burned. Their popularity, nevertheless,
remained undiminished, and edition after edition found its way into the
hands of the people. The best editions now available are that by George
Chalmers, three volumes, London, 1806, that of the Early English Text
Society by various editors, 1865-1871, and the edition by David Laing,
LL.D., three volumes, Edinburgh, 1879. The last is taken in the present
volume as the standard text.
Of Lyndsay’s compositions “The Dreme” has generally been considered
the most poetical, and the “Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis” the most
important. The former is an allegory in the fashion of Dante and
Chaucer, in which, after a prologue which has been much admired for
its descriptive charm, a historical lesson is drawn from the abuse of
power by rulers of the past, and the political grievances of Scotland
are set boldly forth. To the latter belongs the credit of being the
earliest specimen of the Scottish drama now in existence, the ground
having been previously occupied only by the old mysteries and pageants,
the “fairseis and clerk-playis” mentioned by Sir Richard Maitland.[12]
Technically it is neither a morality-play nor a regular drama, but what
is known as an interlude: it has no regular plot, and upon its stage
real men and women move about among allegorical personages. Its author,
however, confined the term “interlude” to the burlesque diversions
which occupied the intervals of the main action. “Lyndsay’s play,”
says Chalmers, “carried away the palm of dramatic composition from the
contemporary moralities of England till the epoch of the first tragedy
in _Gorboduc_ and the first comedy in _Gammer Gurton’s Needle_.” The
work was more, however, than a dramatic pioneer; it was the greatest
blow which Lyndsay struck at the vices and follies of his age, the
ignorance and profligacy of the priesthood, and the insolence and
unscrupulous ambition of the courtiers; and it is perhaps not too much
to say of it that by its performance again and again before multitudes
of all classes of the people it prepared the way more than anything
else for the great movement of the Reformation in Scotland. For the
modern reader, apart from its merits as a _tour de force_ of satire,
this work remains the most vivid picture we possess of the grievances
by which the common people of Scotland were oppressed during the last
days of feudalism.
[12] In his poem on the marriage of Queen Mary with the Dauphin.
“The Monarche,” a still longer poem, possesses nothing like the
interest of the “Satyre.” In dialogue form, it follows the historic
fashion of an earlier time, attempting to give a complete history of
the human race from the creation to the day of judgment. Gloom and
sadness reign throughout its pages, and notwithstanding one or two
fine descriptive passages and the exhibition of much learning and
sagacious reflection, it must be ranked among the less vital of its
author’s works. An English version of “The Monarche,” nevertheless, was
repeatedly printed in London from 1566 onwards, and a translation into
Danish was published at Copenhagen in 1591.
“The Testament and Complaynt of the Kyngis Papyngo” is a composition
frequently referred to. It opens with a prologue in praise of the
makars, who, from Chaucer to the writer’s contemporary Bellenden,
are named in order. In form of a fable--the death-bed of the king’s
parrot, attended by the pye, a canon regular, the raven, a black monk,
and the hawk, a holy friar--it satirizes mercilessly the vices of the
clergy and the abuses of the church.
Lyndsay’s lesser productions are satires on minor subjects, such as
court patronage and the absurdities of female fashions, showing their
author in a lighter vein. But “Kitteis Confessioun” is another hard hit
at the church abuses of the time, and the “Deploratioun of the Deith of
Quene Magdalene” possesses interest as a picture of a royal welcome in
the sixteenth century.
“The Tragedie of the Cardinall,” apart from a suggestion in the
prologue, the appearance of Beaton’s ghost--
Ane woundit man, aboundantlie bledyng,
With vissage paill and with ane deidlye cheir--
displays no striking poetic power. The poem recounts in detail, as
by the mouth of the prelate himself, the damaging part which Beaton
had played in the contemporary history of Scotland, and it ends with
serious admonitions addressed respectively to prelates and to princes
to avoid the abuses which were then rampant in the government of the
church.
“The Historie of Squyer Meldrum” is written in a different vein from
the rest of Lyndsay’s works. As has already been said, it is modelled
on the gestes and heroic epics of an earlier century. The narrative
is lively, with vivid descriptive passages and great smoothness of
versification. “In all Froissart,” says Dr. Merry Ross, “there is
nothing more delightful in picturesque details than the description of
the jousts between Meldrum and the English knight Talbart on the plains
of Picardy.”
It has been the habit to regard Lyndsay in the character rather of a
reformer than of a poet, and it cannot be doubted that his own purpose
was to edify rather than to delight. But the merit of a satirist
consists, not in his display of the more delicate sort of poetic charm,
but in the brilliance and keenness of his satire. No critic can aver
that in these qualities Lyndsay was lacking. If evidence of power in
other fields be demanded, there are, according to the estimate of
Professor Nichol, passages in “The Dreme,” “Squyer Meldrum,” and “The
Monarche,” “especially in the descriptions of the morning and evening
voices of the birds, which, for harmony of versification and grace of
imagery, may be safely laid alongside of any corresponding to them in
the works of his predecessors.” But it is as a satiric poet that he
must chiefly be appraised, and in this character he stands the greatest
that Scotland has produced. He remained popular for more than two
centuries because he sympathised with the sorrows of the people and
satirized the abuse of power by the great. In this respect he was not
excelled even by his great successor, Robert Burns. For the reader of
the present day the interest of Lyndsay, apart from the broad light
which he throws upon the life and manners of his time, lies in his
shrewd common-sense, his irresistible humour, vivacity, and dramatic
power, with the consciousness that behind these burns a soul of
absolute honesty. But the first value of his work, as of the work of
every satiric poet, consisted in its wholesome effect upon the spirit
of his age. With this fact in view it would be difficult to formulate
a better summing-up of Lyndsay’s titles to regard than that by Scott
in the fourth canto of _Marmion_. There, by a poetic license, he is
introduced in the character of Lyon Herald on the eve of Flodden,
sixteen years before he obtained that office--
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.
* * * * *
Still is thy name of high account
And still thy verse has charms,
Sir David Lindesay of the Mount,
Lord Lion King-at-arms!
THE DREME.
EPISTIL TO THE KINGIS GRACE.
Rycht potent Prince, of hie Imperial blude,
Unto thy Grace I traist it be weill knawin
My servyce done unto your Celsitude,
Quhilk nedis nocht at length for to be schawin;
And thocht[13] my youtheid now be neir ouer-blawin,
Excerst[14] in servyce of thyne Excellence,
Hope hes me hecht[15] ane gudlie recompense.
Quhen thow wes young I bure thee in myne arme
Full tenderlie, tyll thow begouth to gang[16];
And in thy bed oft happit[17] thee full warme,
With lute in hand, syne[18], sweitlie to thee sang:
Sumtyme, in dansing, feiralie[19] I flang;
And sumtyme, playand farsis on the flure;
And sumtyme, on myne office takkand cure:
And sumtyme, lyke ane feind, transfigurate,
And sumtyme, lyke the greislie gaist of Gye[20];
In divers formis oft-tymes disfigurate,
And sumtyme, dissagyist full plesandlye.
So, sen[21] thy birth, I have continewalye
Bene occupyit, and aye to thy plesoure,
And sumtyme, Seware, Coppare, and Carvoure[22];
Thy purs-maister and secreit Thesaurare[23],
Thy Yschare[24], aye sen thy natyvitie,
And of thy chalmer cheiffe Cubiculare,
Quhilk, to this hour, hes keipit my lawtie[25];
Lovyng[26] be to the blyssit Trynitie
That sic[27] ane wracheit worme hes maid so habyll[28]
Tyll sic ane Prince to be so greabyll!
But now thow arte, be influence naturall,
Hie of ingyne[29], and rycht inquisityve
Of antique storeis, and deidis marciall;
More plesandlie the tyme for tyll ouerdryve,
I have, at length, the storeis done descryve[30]
Of Hectour, Arthour, and gentyll Julyus,
Of Alexander, and worthy Pompeyus;
Of Jasone, and Medea, all at lenth,
Of Hercules the actis honorabyll,
And of Sampsone the supernaturall strenth,
And of leill luffaris[31] storeis amiabyll;
And oft-tymes have I feinyeit mony fabyll,
Of Troylus the sorrow and the joye,
And Seigis all of Tyir, Thebes, and Troye.
The propheceis of Rymour, Beid, and Marlyng,[32]
And of mony uther plesand storye,
Of the Reid Etin, and the Gyir Carlyng,[33]
Confortand thee, quhen that I saw thee sorye.
Now, with the supporte of the King of Glorye,
I sall thee schaw ane storye of the new,
The quhilk affore I never to thee schew.
But humilie I beseik thyne Excellence,
With ornate termis thocht I can nocht expres
This sempyll mater, for laik of eloquence;
Yit, nochtwithstandyng all my besynes,
With hart and hand my pen I sall addres
As I best can, and most compendious:
Now I begyn: the mater hapnit thus.
[13] though.
[14] Exercised.
[15] promised.
[16] began to go.
[17] wrapped.
[18] afterwards.
[19] nimbly.
[20] Perhaps the Sir Guy of romance.
[21] since.
[22] Butler, Cup-bearer, and Carver.
[23] treasurer.
[24] usher.
[25] loyalty.
[26] Praise.
[27] such.
[28] able.
[29] high of spirit.
[30] describe.
[31] true lovers.
[32] Many of the prophecies of The Rhymer, Bede, and Merlin were
printed in a small volume by Andro Hart at Edinburgh in 1615.
[33] The Red Etin, a giant with three heads, was the subject of a
popular story mentioned in the _Complaynt of Scotland_. William
Motherwell has a poem “The Etin of Sillarwood.” The Gyre Carlin, or
huge old woman, was the gruesome Hecate, or mother-witch, of many
peasant stories.
PROLOG.
In-to the Calendis of Januarie,
Quhen fresche Phebus, be movyng circulair,
Frome Capricorne wes enterit in Aquarie,
With blastis that the branchis maid full bair,
The snaw and sleit perturbit all the air,
And flemit[34] Flora frome every bank and bus[35],
Throuch supporte of the austeir Eolus.
Efter that I the lang wynteris nycht
Had lyne walking[36], in-to my bed, allone,
Throuch hevy thocht, that no way sleip I mycht,
Rememberyng of divers thyngis gone:
So up I rose, and clethit me anone.
Be this, fair Tytane, with his lemis[37] lycht,
Ouer all the land had spred his baner brycht.
With cloke and hude I dressit me belyve[38],
With dowbyll schone, and myttanis on my handis;
Howbeit the air was rycht penetratyve,
Yit fure I furth, lansing ouirthorte[39] the landis
Toward the see, to schorte[40] me on the sandis,
Because unblomit was baith bank and braye[41].
And so, as I was passing be the waye,
I met dame Flora, in dule weid dissagysit[42],
Quhilk in-to May wes dulce and delectabyll;
With stalwart[43] stormis hir sweitnes wes supprisit[44];
Hir hevynlie hewis war turnit in-to sabyll,
Quhilkis umquhile[45] war to luffaris amiabyll.
Fled frome the froste, the tender flouris I saw
Under dame Naturis mantyll lurking law.
The small fowlis in flokkis saw I flee,
To Nature makand greit lamentatioun.
Thay lychtit doun besyde me on ane tree,
Of thair complaynt I had compassioun;
And with ane pieteous exclamatioun
Thay said, “Blyssit be Somer, with his flouris;
And waryit[46] be thow, Wynter, with thy schouris!”
“Allace! Aurora,” the syllie[47] Larke can crye,
“Quhare hes thou left thy balmy liquour sweit
That us rejosit, we mounting in the skye?
Thy sylver droppis ar turnit in-to sleit.
O fair Phebus! quhare is thy hoilsum heit?
Quhy tholis[48] thow thy hevinlie plesand face
With mystie vapouris to be obscurit, allace!
“Quhar art thow May, with June thy syster schene[49],
Weill bordourit with dasyis of delyte?
And gentyll Julie, with thy mantyll grene,
Enamilit with rosis red and quhyte?
Now auld and cauld Januar, in dispyte,
Reiffis[50] frome us all pastyme and plesour.
Allace! quhat gentyll hart may this indure?
“Ouersylit[51] ar with cloudis odious
The goldin skyis of the Orient,
Changeyng in sorrow our sang melodious,
Quhilk we had wount to sing with gude intent,
Resoundand to the hevinnis firmament:
Bot now our daye is changeit in-to nycht.”
With that thay rais, and flew furth of my sycht.
Pensyve in hart, passing full soberlie
Unto the see, fordward I fure anone.
The see was furth, the sand wes smooth and drye;
Then up and doun I musit myne allone[52],
Till that I spyit ane lyttill cave of stone
Heych[53] in ane craig: upwart I did approche
But tarying[54], and clam up in the roche:
And purposit, for passing of the tyme,
Me to defende from ociositie[55],
With pen and paper to register in ryme
Sum mery mater of antiquitie:
Bot Idelnes, ground of iniquitie,
Scho maid so dull my spreitis, me within,
That I wyste nocht at quhat end to begin,
But satt styll in that cove, quhare I mycht see
The wolteryng[56] of the wallis, up and doun,
And this fals warldis instabilytie
Unto that see makkand comparisoun,
And of this warldis wracheit variatioun
To thame that fixis all thair hole intent,
Consideryng quho most had suld most repent.
So, with my hude my hede I happit warme,
And in my cloke I fauldit boith my feit;
I thocht my corps with cauld suld tak no harme,
My mittanis held my handis weill in heit;
The skowland[57] craig me coverit frome the sleit.
Thare styll I satt, my bonis for to rest,
Tyll Morpheus with sleip my spreit opprest.
So, throw the bousteous[58] blastis of Eolus,
And throw my walkyng on the nycht before,
And throw the seyis movyng marvellous,
Be Neptunus, with mony route[59] and rore,
Constraint I was to sleip, withouttin more:
And quhat I dremit, in conclusioun
I sall you tell, ane marvellous Visioun.
[In the company of Dame Remembrance the poet visits the centre of
the earth, and there amid the torments of hell discovers the “men
of Kirk,” from cardinals to friars, with historic characters, from
Bishop Caiaphas and Mahomet to queens and dukes, whose causes of
punishment are described. He visits purgatory and the place of
unbaptised babes, then passing upward through the four elements and
the spheres of the seven planets, from that of the moon, “Quene of
the see and bewtie of the nycht,” he reaches the heaven of heavens,
and beholds the throne of God, with all its glorious surroundings.
Upon leaving heaven Remembrance displays and describes the three
parts of the earth to the poet, and after affording him a view of
paradise with its four walls of fire, brings him to Scotland. Here he
enquires the causes of all the unhappiness which he sees. These are
attributed to political turpitude and mismanagement. As Remembrance
is speaking a third personage appears on the scene.]
[34] banished.
[35] bush.
[36] lain waking.
[37] beams.
[38] quickly.
[39] Yet fared I forth, speeding athwart.