"Though he were borne to glory and honour,
Of auncient stocke and noble progenie,
Yet thought his courage to be of more valour,
By his owne actes and noble chiualry.
Like as becommeth a knight to fortifye
His princes quarell with right and equitie,
So did this Hawarde with courage valiauntly,
Till death abated his bolde audacitie."
The poet, gives "cursed fortune" a severe rating, and at such length that
the old lady no doubt repented herself, for cutting off so promising a hero
_at so early an age_:--
"Tell me, frayle fortune, why did thou breuiate
The liuing season of suche a captayne,
That when his actes ought to be laureate
Thy fauour turned him suffring to be slayne?"
And then he addresses the Duke himself in a consolatory strain,
endeavouring to reconcile him to the loss of so promising a son, by
recalling to his memory those heroes of antiquity whose careers of glory
were cut short by sudden and violent deaths:--
"But moste worthy duke hye and victorious,
Respire to comfort, see the vncertentie
Of other princes, whose fortune prosperous
Oftetime haue ended in hard aduersitie:
Read of Pompeius," [&c.]
. . . . . .
"This shall be, this is, and this hath euer bene,
That boldest heartes be nearest ieopardie,
To dye in battayle is honour as men wene
To suche as haue ioy in haunting chiualry.
"Suche famous ending the name doth magnifie,
Note worthy duke, no cause is to complayne,
His life not ended foule nor dishonestly,
In bed nor tauerne his lustes to maynteyne,
But like as besemed a noble captayne,
In sturdie harnes he died for the right,
From deathes daunger no man may flee certayne,
But suche death is metest vnto so noble a knight.
"But death it to call me thinke it vnright,
Sith his worthy name shall laste perpetuall," [&c.]
This detail and these long quotations have been rendered necessary by the
strange blunder which has been made and perpetuated as to the identity of
the young hero whose death is so feelingly lamented in this elegy. With
that now clearly ascertained, we can not only fix with confidence the date
of the publication of the Eclogues, but by aid of the hint conveyed in the
Prologue, quoted above (p. lv.), as to the author's age, "fortie saue
twayne," decide, for the first time, the duration of his life, and the
dates, approximately at least, of its incidents, and of the appearance of
his undated works. Lord Edward Howard, perhaps the bravest and rashest of
England's admirals, perished in a madly daring attack upon the harbour of
Brest, on the 25th of April, 1514. As the eclogues could not therefore have
been published prior to that date, so, bearing in mind the other allusions
referred to above, they could scarcely have appeared later. Indeed, the
loss which the elegy commemorates is spoken of as quite recent, while the
elegy itself bears every appearance of having been introduced into the
eclogue at the last moment. We feel quite satisfied therefore that Warton
hit quite correctly upon the year 1514 as that in which these poems first
saw the light, though the ground (the allusion to the Henries) upon which
he went was insufficient, and his identification of the hero of the elegy
contradicted his supposition. Had he been aware of the importance of fixing
the date correctly, he would probably have taken more care than to fall
into the blunder of confounding the father with the son, and adorning the
former with the dearly earned laurels of the latter.
It may be added that, fixing 1514 as the date at which Barclay had arrived
at the age of 38, agrees perfectly with all else we know of his years, with
the assumed date of his academical education, and of his travels abroad,
with the suppositions formed as to his age from his various published works
having dates attached to them, and finally, with the traditional "great
age" at which he died, which would thus be six years beyond the allotted
span.
After the Ship of Fools the Eclogues rank second in importance in a
consideration of Barclay's writings. Not only as the first of their kind in
English, do they crown their author with the honour of introducing this
kind of poetry to English literature, but they are in themselves most
interesting and valuable as faithful and graphic pictures of the court,
citizen, and country life of the period. Nowhere else in so accessible a
form do there exist descriptions at once so full and so accurate of the
whole condition of the people. Their daily life and habits, customs,
manners, sports, and pastimes, are all placed on the canvas before us with
a ready, vigorous, unflinching hand. Witness for instance the following
sketch, which might be entitled, "Life, temp. 1514":--
"Some men deliteth beholding men to fight,
Or goodly knightes in pleasaunt apparayle,
Or sturdie souldiers in bright harnes and male.
. . . . . . . .
Some glad is to see these Ladies beauteous,
Goodly appoynted in clothing sumpteous:
A number of people appoynted in like wise:
In costly clothing after the newest gise,
Sportes, disgising, fayre coursers mount and praunce,
Or goodly ladies and knightes sing and daunce:
To see fayre houses and curious picture(s),
Or pleasaunt hanging, or sumpteous vesture
Of silke, of purpure, or golde moste orient,
And other clothing diuers and excellent:
Hye curious buildinges or palaces royall,
Or chapels, temples fayre and substanciall,
Images grauen or vaultes curious;
Gardeyns and medowes, or place delicious,
Forestes and parkes well furnished with dere,
Colde pleasaunt streames or welles fayre and clere,
Curious cundites or shadowie mountaynes,
Swete pleasaunt valleys, laundes or playnes
Houndes, and suche other thinges manyfolde
Some men take pleasour and solace to beholde."
The following selections illustrative of the customs and manners of the
times will serve as a sample of the overflowing cask from which they are
taken. The condition of the country people is clearly enough indicated in a
description of the village Sunday, the manner of its celebration being
depicted in language calculated to make a modern sabbatarian's hair stand
on end:--
"What man is faultlesse, remember the village,
Howe men vplondish on holy dayes rage.
Nought can them tame, they be a beastly sort,
In sweate and labour hauing most chiefe comfort,
On the holy day assoone as morne is past,
When all men resteth while all the day doth last,
They drinke, they banket, they reuell and they iest
They leape, they daunce, despising ease and rest.
If they once heare a bagpipe or a drone,
Anone to the elme or oke they be gone.
There vse they to daunce, to gambolde and to rage
Such is the custome and vse of the village.
When the ground resteth from rake, plough and wheles,
Then moste they it trouble with burthen of their heles: