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Oh, whether was kythit1 there true love or none?
He is most true and steadfast paramour,
And love is lost but upon him alone.'

The Merle said, “Why put God so great beauty
In ladies, with such womanly havíng,
But if he would that they should loved be?
To love eke nature gave them inclining,
And He of nature that worker was and king,
Would nothing frustira put, nor let be seen,
Into his creature of his own making;
A lusty life in Love's service been.'

The Nightingale said, “Not to that behoof
Put God such beauty in a lady's face,
That she should have the thank therefor or love,
But He, the worker, that put in her such grace;
Of beauty, bounty, riches, time, or space,
And every goodness that been to come or gone
The thank redounds to him in every place:
All love is lost but upon God alone.'

O Nightingale! it were a story nice,
That love should not depend on charity;
And, if that virtue contrar' be to vic
Then love must be a virtue, as thinks me;
For, aye, to love envy must contrar' be:
God bade eke love thy neighbour from the spleen;3
And who than ladies sweeter neighbours be?
A lusty life in Love's service been.'

The Nightingale said, “Bird, why does thou rave? Man may take in his lady such delight,

Kythit:' shewn.—2 ‘Frustir:' in vain.—3 «Spleen :' from the heart.

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Him to forget that her such virtue gave,
And for his heaven receive her colour white:
Her golden tressed hairis redomite,
Like to Apollo's beamis though they shone,
Should not him blind from love that is perfito;
All love is lost but upon God alone.' '

The Merle said, 'Love is cause of honour aye,
Love makis cowards manhood to purchase,
Love makis knightis hardy at essay,
Love makis wretches full of largëness,
Love makis sweira folks full of business,
Love makis sluggards fresh and well beseen,
Love changes vice in virtuous nobleness;
A lusty life in Love's service been.'

The Nightingale said, "True is the contrary;
Such frustis love it blindis men so far,
Into their minds it makis them to vary;
In false vain-glory they so drunken are,
Their wit is went, of woe they are not 'ware,
Till that all worship away be from them gone,
Fame, goods, and strength; wherefore well say
All love is lost but upon God alone.'

I dare,

Then said the Merle, · Mine error I confess :
This frustis love is all but vanity:
Blind ignorance me gave such hardiness,
To argue so against the verity;
Wherefore I counsel every man that he
With love not in the fiendis net be tone,4
But love the love that did for his love die:
All love is lost but upon God alone.'

'Redomite:' bound, encircled.—3 «Sweir:' slothful.—3 Well beseen:' of good appearance.—4 Tone;' taken.

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Then sang they both with voices loud and clear,
The Merle sang, “ Man, love God that has thee wrought.'
The Nightingale sang, “Man, love the Lord most dear,
That thee and all this world made of nought.'
The Merle said, “Love him that thy love has sought
From heaven to earth, and here took flesh and bone.'
The Nightingale sang, ‘And with his death thee bought:
All love is lost but upon him alone.'

Then flew these birds over the boughis sheen,
Singing of love among the leavës small;
Whose eidant plead yet made my thoughtis grein,
Both sleeping, waking, in rest and in travail:
Me to recomfort most it does avail,
Again for love, when love I can find none,
To think how sung this Merle and Nightingale;
* All love is lost but upon God alone.'

GAVIN DOUGLAS.

This eminent prelate was a younger son of Archibald, the fifth Earl of Angus. He was born in Brechin about the year 1474. He studied at the University of Paris. He became a churchman, and yet united with attention to the duties of his calling great proficiency in polite learning. In 1513 he finished a translation, into Scottish verse, of Virgil's ' Æneid,' which, considering the age, is an extraordinary performance. It occupied him only sixteen months. The multitude of obsolete terms, however, in which it abounds, renders it now, as a whole, illegible. After passing through various subordinate offices, such as the 'Provostship’ of St Giles's, Edinburgh, and the 'Abbotship’ of Arbroath, he was at length appointed Bishop of Dunkeld. Dunkeld was not then the paradise it has become, but Birnam hill and the other mountains then, as now, stood round about it, the old Cathedral rose up in medieval majesty, and the broad, smooth Tay flowed onward to the ocean. And, doubtless, Douglas felt the poetic inspiration from it quite as warmly as did Thomas Brown, when, three centuries afterwards, he set up the staff of his summer rest at the beautiful Invar inn, and thence delighted to diverge to the hundred scenes of enchantment which stretch around. The good Bishop was an ardent politician as well as a poet, and was driven, by his share in the troubles of the times, to flee from his native land, and take refuge in the Court of Henry VIII. The King received him kindly, and treated him with much liberality. In 1522 he died at London of the plague, and was interred in the Savoy Church. He was, according to Buchanan, about to proceed to Rome to vindicate himself before the Pope against certain charges brought by his enemies. Besides the translation of the • Æneid,' Douglas is the author of a long poem entitled the 'Palace of Honour;' it is an allegory, describing a large company making a pilgrimage to Honour's Palace. It bears considerable resemblance to the Pilgrim's Progress, and some suppose that Bunyan had seen it before composing his allegory. 'King Hart ’ is another production of our poet's, of considerable length and merit. It gives, metaphorically, a view of human life. Perhaps his best pieces are his 'Prologues,' affixed to each book of the Æneid.' From them we have selected ‘Morning in May' as a specimen. The closing lines are fine.

1.Whose eidant plead yet made my thoughtis grein:' whose close disputation made my thoughts yearn.

“Welcome the lord of light, and lamp of day,
Welcome fosterer of tender herbis

green,
Welcome quickener of flourish'd flowers sheen,
Welcome support of every root and vein,

Welcome comfort of all kind fruit and grain,' &c. Douglas must not be named with Dunbar in strength and grandeur of genius. His power is more in expression than in conception, and hence he has shone so much in translation. His version of the 'Æneid' is the first made of any classic into a British tongue, and is the worthy progenitor of such minor miracles of poetical talent—all somewhat more mechanical than inspired, and yet giving a real, though subordinate glory to our literature—as Fairfax's "Tasso,' Dryden's 'Virgil,' and Pope's, Cowper's, and Sotheby's 'Homer.' The fire in Douglas' original verses is occasionally lost in smoke, and the meaning buried in flowery verbiage. Still he was an honour alike to the Episcopal bench and the Muse of Scotland. He was of amiable manners, gentle temperament, and a noble and commanding appearance.

MORNING IN MAY.

As fresh Aurore, to mighty Tithon spouse,
Ished of her saffron bed and ivor' house,
In cram’sy clad and grained violate,
With sanguine cape, and selvage purpurate,
Unshet2 the windows of her largë hall,
Spread all with roses, and full of balm royal,
And eke the heavenly portis crystalline
Unwarps broad, the world to illumine;
The twinkling streamers of the orient
Shed

purpour spraings,' with gold and azure ment;4
Eous, the steed, with ruby harness red,
Above the seas liftis forth his head,
Of colour sore, and somedeal brown as berry,
For to alighten and glad our hemispery;
The flame out-bursten at the neisthirls,6
So fast Phaeton with the whip him whirls.
While shortly, with the blazing torch of day,
Abulyit? in his lemands fresh array,
Forth of his palace royal ished Phebus,
With golden crown and visage glorious,
Crisp hairs, bright as chrysolite or topaz;
For whose hue might none behold his face.
1 Ished of:' issued from.—2 Unshet:' opened.—3 ‘Spraings:' streaks.-
4 'Ment:' mingled.—5 "Sore:' yellowish brown._.6 “Neisthirls:' nostrils. —
7' Abulyit:' attired.—8 • Lemand: glittering.

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