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And when in mind I did consent
To follow thus my fancy's will,
And when my heart did first relent

To taste such bait myself to spill,
I would my heart had been as thine,
Or else thy heart as soft as miue.

O flatterer false! thou traitor born-
What mischief more might thou devise
Than thy dear friend to have in scorn,
And him to wound in sundry wise,
Which still a friend pretends to be,
But art not so by proof, I see-
Fie, fie upon such treachery!

Give place, you ladies, and be gone;
Boast not yourselves at all,
For here at hand approacheth one
Whose face will stain you all.

A Praise of his Lady.-Said to be by George Boleyn, beheaded in 1536.
Also claimed for John Heywood.--From Tottel's Miscellany.
Her roseal colour comes and goes
With such a comely grace,
More ruddier too than doth the rose,
Within her lively face


The virtue of her lively looks
Excels the precious stone;

I wish to have none other books
To read or look upon.

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At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet,
Ne at no wanton play,
Nor gazing in an open street,
Nor gadding as astray.

The modest mirth that she doth use,
Is mixed with shamefastness;
All vice she wholly doth refuse,
And hateth idleness.

O Lord, it is a world to see
How virtue can repair,
And deck her in such modesty,
Whom nature made so fair!

Truly she doth as far excel

Our women now-a-days,
As doth the gilly-flower a weed,
And more a thousand ways.

How might I do to get a graff
Of this unspotted tree?
For all the rest are plain but chaff
Which seem good corn to be.

This gift alone I shall her give:

When Death doth what he can,
Her honest fame shall ever live
Within the mouth of man.


THOMAS TUSSER, author of the first didactic poem in the language, was born about 1515, of an ancient family, had a good education, and commenced life at court, under the patronage of Lord Paget. Afterwards he practised farming successively at Ratwood in Sussex, Ipswich, Fairsted in Essex, Norwich, and other places; but not succeeding in that walk, he betook himself to other occupations, amongst

which were those of a chorister and, it is said, a fiddler. As might be expected of one so inconstant, he did not prosper in the world, but died poor in London, in 1580.

Tusser's poem, entitled a Hondreth Good Points of Husbandrie,' which was first published in 1557, is a series of practical directions for farming, expressed in simple and inelegant, but not always dull verse, It was afterwards expanded by other writers, and published under the title of 'Five Hundroth Points of Good Húsbandrie ;' the last of a considerable number of editions appeared in 1710.

Directions for Cultivating a Hop-garden.
Whom fancy persuadeth, among other crops,
To have for his spending sufficient of hops,
Must willingly follow, of choices to choose,
Such lessons approved, as skilful do use.
Ground gravelly, sandy, and mixed with clay,
Is naughty for hops, any manner of way,
Or if it be mingled with rubbish and stone,
For dryness and barrenness let it alone.
Choose soil for the hop of the rottenest mould,
Well dunged and wrought, as a garden-plot should;
Not far from the water, but not overflown,
This lesson, well noted, is meet to be known.
The sun in the south, or else southly and west,
Is joy to the hop, as a welcome guest;
But wind in the north, or else northerly east,
To the hop is as ill as a fay in a feast.
Meet plot for a hop-yard once found as is told,
Make thereof account, as of jewel of gold;
Now dig it, and leave it, the sun for to burn,
And afterwards fence it, to serve for that turn,
The hop for his profit I thus do exalt,
It strengtheneth drink, and it favoureth malt;
And being well brewed, long kept it will last,
And drawing abide-if ye draw not too fast.

Housewiely Physic.
Good huswife provides, ere a sickness do come,
Of sundry good things in her house to have some.
Good Aqua compositu, and vinegar tart,
Rose water, and treacle, to comfort thine heart.
Cold herbs in her garden, for agues that buri,
That overstrong heat to good temper may turn.
White endive, and succory, with spinach enow;
All such with good pot-herbs, should follow the plough.)
Get water of fumitory, liver to cool,
And others the like or else lie like a fool.
Conserves of barbary, quincts, and such,
With syrups that easeth the sickly so much.
Ask Medicus' counsel, ere medicine ye take,
And honour that man for necessity's sake.
Though thousands hate physic, because of the cost,
Yet thousands it helpeth, that else should be lost,

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The difference between the English and Scottish languages has now become decided. In Barbour and Wyntoun, the variation is very slight; but before another century had elapsed, the northern dialect was a separate and independent speech. This distinction had probably existed long before in the spoken language of the people; but it was only developed in poetry in the writings of Henryson, Dunbar, and Lyndsay. The Anglo-Saxon element predominated in the north, and it was proved to be not unfitted for the higher purposes of poetry. Dunbar is a vigorous imaginative poet, greater than any that had appeared since the days of Chaucer, and only wanting a little more chivalrous feeling and a finer tone of humanity to rival the father of English verse.


This chivalrous Scottish prince was born in 1394. In order to save him from the unscrupulous hands of his uncle, the Duke of Albany, James was privately despatched to the court of Charles VI. of France, but the vessel in which he embarked was seized off the coast of Norfolk, and the young prince, then in his eleventh year, was forcibly detained by Henry IV. of England. This act of gross injustice completed the calamities of the infirm and imbecile King Robert III. of Scotland, who sank under the blow, and it led to the captivity of James for more than eighteen years. Henry, however, furnished the captive prince with liberal means of instruction. In all the learning and polite accomplishments of the English court he became a proficient, excelling not only in knightly and athletic exercises, but in the science of music and in acquaintance of the classic and romantic poets Chaucer and Gower he studied closely. Original composition followed; and there are few finer strains than those with which

1 Mad.

James soothed his hours of solitary restraint within Windsor Tower. His description of the small garden which lay before his chamber window-once the moat of the Tower-and the first glimpse he there obtained of his future queen, the Lady Joan Beaufort, form a beauti ful and touching episode in our literary anuals. James obtained his release, married the Lady Joan in February, 1424, and in May of the same year was crowned King of Scotland-the most accomplished prince of his age, to rule over a turbulent and distracted country. He set himself vigorously to reduce the power of the profligate nobles, and to insure the faithful administration of justice, resolving, as he said, that the key should keep the castle, and the bush secure the COW. The sentiment was worthy a prince; but James pursued his measures in some instances, too far, and clouded the aspect of justice with ineffaceable stains of cruelty and vengeance. A conspiracy was formed against him (the chief actor in which was his uncle, Walter Stuart, Earl of Athole), and he was assassinated at Perth, on the 20th of February, 1437.

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The principal poem of James I. is entitled The King's Quhair. meaning the king's Quire, or Book. Only one MS. of the poum (which extends to nearly 1400 lines) is extant, preserved in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, and was printed in 1788, edited by William Tytler, Lord Woodhouselee. The subject is the royal poet's love for Lady Joan Beaufort, described in the allegorical style of the age, in the manner of Chancer, and with much ne description, sentiment, and poetical fancy. It places James high in the rank of romantic poets. Two humorous Scottish poems are also ascribed to himChristis Kirk on the Grene,' and Peblis to the Play,' both descriptive of rustic sports and pastimes, and the former ridiculing the Scottish want of skill in archery. They are excellent though coarse, humorous poems. The claim of James to the authorship of either has, however, been disputed, though it seems supported-at least in the case of Christis Kirk on the Grene'-by good testimony. The style has certainly a more modern cast than would be looked for, but no claimant more probable than James I. has yet been named; and Sir Walter Scott--as well as Tytler and others-unhesitatingly ascribes 'Christis Kirk on the Grene' to the royal poet. In the following quotation, and subsequent extracts, the spelling is modernised:

James I. a Prisoner in Windsor, first sees Lady Joan Beaufort, who afterwards was his Queen.

Bewailing in my chamber, thus alone,
Despaired of all joy and remedy.
For-tired of my thought, and woe-begone,
And to the window gan I walk in hy (1)
To see the world and folk that went torbye, (2)
As, for the time, though I of mirthis food
Might have no more, to look it did me good.

1 laste.

2 Past.

Now was there made, fast by the Towris wall,
A garden fair; and in the corners set
Ane arbour green, with wandis long and small
Railed about, and so with trees set
Was all the place, and hawthorn hedges knet,
That lyf was none walking there forbye,
That might within scarce any wight espy.
So thick the boughis and the leavis green
Beshaded all the alleys that there were,
And mids of every arbour might be seen
The sharpe greene sweete juniper,
Growing so fair with branches here and there,
That as it seemed to a lyf without,
The boughis spread the arbour all about.
And on the smalle greene twistis (1) sat,
The little sweete nightingale, and sung,
So loud and clear, the hymnis consecrat
Of lovis uge, now soft, now loud ainong,
That all the gardens and the wallis rung
Right of their song.

Cast I down mine eyes again,
Where as I saw, walking under the Tower,
Full secretly, new comen here to plain,
The fairest or the freshest young flower
That ever I sa.v, methought, before that hour,
For which sudden abate, anon astart, (2)
The blood of all my body to my heart.
And though I stood abasit tho a lite, (3)
No wonder was; for why? my wittis all
Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight,
Only through letting of my eyen fall,
That suddenly my heart became her thrall,
For ever of free will--for of menace
There was no token in her sweete face.
And in my head I drew right hastily,
And eftesoons I leant it out again,
And saw her walk that very womanly,
With no wight mo', but only women twain.
Then gan I study in myself, and sayn: (4)
* Ah, sweet! are ye a worldly creature,
Or heavenly thing in likeness of nature ?

Or are ye god Cupidis own princess,
And comin are to loose me out of band ?
Or are ye very Nature the goddess,
That have depainted with your heavenly hand,
This garden full of flowers as they stand?
What shall I think, alas! what reverence
Shall I mister (5) unto your excellence ?
If ye a goddess be, and that ye like
To do me pain, I may it not astart: (6).
If ye be wardly wight, that doth me sike, (7)
Why list (8) Göd make you so, my dearest heart,
To do a seely (9) prisoner this smart,

1 Twigs. 4 Say.

2 Went and came.
5 Minister. 6 Fly.

3 Confounded for a little while.
7 Makes me sigh, 8 Pleased.

9 Wretched

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