Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

In middell erth is none like theretill.
When thou comyst in yone castell gaye,
I pray thee curteis man to be;
What so any man to you say,
Loke thu answer none but me.
My lord is servyd at yche messe,
With xxx kniztes feir and fre ;
I shall say syttyng on the dese,
I toke thy speche beyone the le.
Thomas stode as still as stone,
And behelde that ladye gaye;

Than was sche fayr, and ryche anone,
And also ryal on hir palfreye.

courteous

The grewhoundes had fylde thaim on the dere,
The raches coupled, by my fay,

She blewe her horne Thomas to chere

each

knights

dais

royal

deer

dogs

[blocks in formation]

Knyghtes dansyd by two and thre,
All that leue long day.

Ladyes that were gret of gre,

Sat and sang of rych aray.

Thomas sawe much more in that place,

Than I can descryve,

Til on a day, alas, alas,

My lovelye layde sayd to me,

Busk ye, Thomas, you must agayn,

Here you may no longer be:

Hy then zerne that you were at hame,
I sal ye bryng to Eldyn Tre

Thomas answered with heuy

And said, Lowely ladye, lat ma be,
For I say ye certenly here

Haf I be bot the space of dayes three.

amidst

haste

Sothly, Thomas, as I telle ye,
You hath ben here three yeres,
And here you may no longer be;
And I sal tele ye a skele,

To-morrowe of helle ye foule fende
Amang our folke shall chuse his fee;
For you art a larg man and an hende,
Trowe you wele he will chuse thee.
Fore all the golde that may be,
Fro hens unto the worldes ende,
Sall you not be betrayed by me,
And thairfor sall yon hens wende.
She broght hym euyn to Eldyn Tre,
Undir nethe the grene wode spray,
In Huntle bankes was fayr to be,
Ther breddes syng both nyzt and day.
Ferre ouyr yon montayns gray,
Fare wele, Thomas, I wende my way.

John Barbour.

[blocks in formation]

JOHN BARBOUR, Archdeacon of Aberdeen, was a Scotchman, and contemporary with Chaucer. He is chiefly known for his epic narrative "The Bruce," which is a history of the memorable times in which King Robert I. asserted the independence of Scotland. It is remarkable that the language of this Scottish poem very closely resembles that of Chaucer. Barbour was born in 1320, and died in 1395, in his seventy-fifth year.

[blocks in formation]

James E. of Scotland. {

Born 1394.
Murd. 1437.

THIS accomplished prince of the house of Stuart was born in 1394. Scotland was at the time in a state of complete anarchy; and to save James from the hands of his uncle Albany, he was, while only eleven years of age, sent privately in a vessel to France. The vessel was seized by the English, and, to the disgrace of Henry IV. of England, the young prince was kept for eighteen years a prisoner in England; Henry, however, treated him well, and James became learned in all the accomplishments of the English Court. Chaucer he studied closely; and he soothed his confinement by writing poetry. His principal poems are "The King's Quhair" (book), and "Christis Kirk on the Grene." There are few finer strains than those he composed on Lady Jane Beaufort, on seeing her from his window at Windsor. James was released in 1423, and married Lady Jane. On his return to Scotland he set himself vigorously to repress the disorders there; but a conspiracy of the lawless nobility having been formed against him, he was assassinated at Perth in 1437.

JAMES I., A PRISONER IN WINDSOR, SEES
LADY JOAN BEAUFORT.

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

began, haste

life, past

And on the smalle greene twistis sat
The little sweete nightingale, and sung
So loud and clear, the hymnis consecrat
Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among,
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 hear to plain,
The fairest and the freshest young flower
That ever I saw, methought, before that hour,
For which sudden abate, anon astart,
The blood of all my body to my heart.

twigs

went and came

And though I stood abasit tho a lite,
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:
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 unto your excellence?

'If ye a goddess be, and that ye like
To do me pain, I may it not astart:
If ye be warldly wight, that doth me sike
Why list God make you so, my dearest heart,
To do a seely prisoner this smart,
That loves you all, and wot of nought but wo?
And therefore mercy, sweet! sin' it is so.'

little

eyes

shortly

say

fly

sigh

wretched

Of her array the form if I shall write,
Towards her golden hair and rich attire,
In fretwise couchit with pearlis white
And great balas leaming as the fire,
With mony ane emeraut and fair sapphire;
And on her head a chaplet fresh of hue,
Of plumis parted red, and white, and blue.

inlaid

stones, glittering

Full of quaking spangis bright as gold.
Forged of shape like to the amorets,
So new, so fresh, so pleasant to behold
The plumis eke like to the flower jonets;
And other of shape, like to the flower jonets;
And above all this, there was, well I wot,
Beauty enough to make a world to dote.

About her neck, white as the fire amail,
A goodly chain of small orfevory,
Whereby there hung a ruby, without fail,
Like to ane heart shapen verily,
That as a spark of lowe so wantonly
Seemed burning upon her white throat,
Now if there was good party, God it wot.

And when she walked had, a little thraw,
Under the sweete greene boughis bent,
Her fair fresh face, as white as any snaw,
She turned has, and furth her wayis went ;
But tho began mine aches and torment,
To see her part and follow I na might;
Methought the day was turned into night.

CHRIST'S KIRK OF THE GREEN.
WAS never in Scotland heard nor seen
Sic dancing nor deray,

Nouther at Falkland on the Green,
Nor Peebliss at the Play,

As was of wooers, as I ween,

At Christ's Kirk on ane day :

There came our Kittys, washen clean,

In their new kirtles of gray,

Full gay,

At Christ's Kirk of the Green that day.

spangles love-knots

lily

enamel gold work

flame

match

turn

merriment

games

« ПредишнаНапред »