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for a wise man reproveth the avaricious man, and saith thus in two verse: Whereto and why burieth a man his goods by his great avarice, and knoweth well that needs must he die, for death is the end of every man as in this present life? And for what cause or encheson joineth he him, or knitteth he him so fast unto his goods, that all his wits mowen not disseveren him or departen him fro his goods, and knoweth well, or ought to know, that when he is dead he shall nothing bear with him out of this world? and therefore saith St Augustine, that the avaricious man is likened unto hell, that the more it swalloweth the more desire it hath to swallow and devour. And as well as ye wold eschew to be called an avaricious man or an chinch, as well should ye keep you and govern you in such wise, that men call you not fool-large; therefore, saith Tullius: The goods of thine house ne should not ben hid ne kept so close, but that they might ben opened by pity and debonnairety, that is to sayen, to give 'em part that han great need; ne they goods shoulden not ben so open to be every man's goods.

Afterward, in getting of your riches, and in using of 'em, ye shuln alway have three things in your heart, that is to say, our Lord God, conscience, and good name. First ye shuln have God in your heart, and for no riches ye shuln do nothing which may in any manner displease God that is your creator and maker; for, after the word of Solomon, it is better to have a little good, with love of God, than to have muckle good and lese the love of his Lord God; and the prophet saith, that better it is to ben a good man and have little good and treasure, than to be holden a shrew and have great riches. And yet I say furthermore, that ye shulden always do your business to get your riches, so that ye get 'em with a good conscience. And the apostle saith, that there n'is thing in this world, of which we shulden have so great joy, as when our conscience beareth us good witness; and the wise man saith: The substance of a man is full good when sin is not in a man's conscience. Afterward, in getting of your riches and in using of 'em, ye must have great business and great diligence that your good name be alway kept and conserved; for Solomon saith, that better it is and more it availeth a man to have a good name than for to have great riches; and therefore he saith in another place: Do great diligence (saith he) in keeping of thy friends and of thy good name, for it shall longer abide with thee than any treasure, be it never so precious; and certainly he should not be called a gentleman that, after God and good conscience all things left, ne doth his diligence and business to keepen his good name; and Cassiodore saith, that it is a sign of a gentle heart, when a man loveth and desireth to have a good name.

JOHN GOWER.

JOHN GOWER is supposed to have been born about the year 1325. He was consequently a few years older than Chaucer, whom he survived eight years. Gower was a member of a knightly family, an esquire of Kent, and possessed of estates in several counties. In 1368 the daughter and co-heiress of Sir Robert Gower of Multon, in Suffolk, conveyed to the poet the manor of Kentwell. In 1399 Gower had, as he himself states, become old and blind. He made his will in August 1408, and must have died shortly afterwards, as his widow administered to his effects in October of that year. From his will it appears that the poet possessed the manors of Southwell in Nottinghamshire, and Multon in Suffolk. He also left his widow a sum of £100, and made various bequests to churches and hospitals. He was interred in the church of St Mary Overies

now St Saviour's-in Southwark, where he had founded a chantry. His monument, containing a full-length figure of the poet, is still preserved, and was repaired in 1832 by the Duke of Sutherland, head of the ancient family of Gower, settled in Yorkshire so early as the twelfth century.* The principal works of Gower were the Speculum Meditantis, the Vox Clamantis, and the Confessio Amantis, 1393. The first of these was in French, but is now lost; the second is in Latin, and the third in English. This English poem was printed by Caxton in 1483, and was again printed in 1532 and 1554. It was chiefly taken from a metrical version in the Pantheon, or Universal Chronicle of Godfrey of Viterbo, as admitted by Gower. In this work is the story of Appolinus, the Prince of Tyre, from which Shakspeare took part of the story of his Pericles, if we assume that Shakspeare was the original or sole author of that drama. The Confessio Amantis is a dialogue between a lover and his confessor-a grave discussion of the morals and metaphysics of love. Dr Pauli, the able editor of the poem (1857), describes it as 'a mixture of classical notions, principally borrowed from Ovid, and of the purely medieval idea, that, as a good Catholic, the unfortunate lover must state his distress to a father confessor.' In the poem, Venus is enjoined to 'greet well' Chaucer,

As my disciple and my poete;

and the greater poet inscribed his Troilus and Cressida to his friend as 'moral Gower,' a designation which has ever since been applied to him. The general style of the Confessio Amantis is grave and sententious, and its enormous length (above thirty thousand lines) renders it tedious ; but it is occasionally relieved by stories and episodes drawn from medieval history and romance, and from the collection of novels known as the Gesta Romanorum. He says:

Full oft time it falleth so
My ear with a good pittance
Is fed, with reading of romance
Of Isodyne and Amadas,
That whilom were in my case;
And eke of other many a score,
That loved long ere I was bore:
For when I of their loves read,
Mine ear with the tale I feed;
And with the lust of their histoire
Sometime I draw into memoire,
How sorrow may not ever last,
And so hope cometh in at last.

Story of the Caskets.-From 'Confessio Amantis, Book V.
In a cronique this I rede:

Aboute a king, as moste nede
Ther was of knyghtes and squiers
Great route, and eke of officers :

Some of long time him had hadden served,
And thoughten that they have deserved
Avancément, and gon withoute:
And some also ben of the route,

It was supposed that there was some relationship between the poet and this noble family, and stress was laid upon the possession been presented to an ancestor of the Yorkshire Gowers by the poet. of a MS. of the Confessio Amantis, which was believed to have The genealogists, however, find no branch to which this alleged alliance can be traced, and the MS. turns out to be the very copy of the work which the author presented to Henry IV, while Duke of Lancaster--a rare and precious volume.

That comen but awhile agon
And they avanced were anon.
These old men, upon this thing,
So as they durst, agein the king,
Among hemself1 compleignen ofte:
But there is nothing said so softe,
That it ne comith out at laste :
The king it wiste, and als so faste,
As he which was of high prudénce:
He shope therfore an evidence
Of hem that pleignen in the cas,
To knowe in whose defalte it was;
And all within his owne entent,
That non ma wisté what it ment.
Anon he let two cofres make

Of one semblance, and of one make,
So lich, that no lif thilke throwe,
That one may fro that other knowe:
They were into his chamber brought,
But no man wot why they be wrought,
And natheles the king hath bede
That they be set in privy stede,
As he that was of wisdom slih;
Whan he therto his time sih,4
All prively, that none it wiste,
His owné hondes that one chiste
Of fin gold, and of fin perie,
The which out of his tresorie
Was take, anon he fild full;

That other cofre of straw and mull
With stones meynd he fild also:
Thus be they full bothé two.

So that erliche 8 upon a day
He had within, where he lay,
Ther should be tofore his bed
A bord up set and fairé spred :
And than he let the cofres fette9
Upon the bord, and did hem sette.
He knewe the names well of tho,10
The whiche agein him grutched so,
Both of his chambre and of his halle,
Anon and sent for hem alle;
And seidé to hem in this wise:

There shall no man his hap despise :
I wot well ye have longe served,
And God wot what ye have deserved;
But if it is along on me

Of that ye unavanced be,

Or elles if it belong on yow,
The sothé shall be proved now:

To stoppé with your evil word,
Lo! here two cofres on the bord;
Chese 11 which you list of bothé two;
And witeth well that one of tho
Is with tresor so full begon,

That if ye happé therupon
Ye shall be riché men for ever:

Now chese, and take which you is lever,
But be well ware ere that ye take,
For of that one I undertake
Ther is no maner good therein,
Wherof ye mighten profit winne.
Now goth 12 together of one assent,
And taketh your avisement;
For, but I you this day avance,
It stant upon your owné chance,
Al only in defalte of grace;

So shall be shewed in this place
Upon you all well afyn,13

That no defalté shal be myn.

They knelen all, and with one vois The king they thonken of this chois :

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And after that they up arise,
And gon aside, and hem avise,
And at lasté they acorde
(Wherof her1 talé to recorde
To what issue they be falle)

A knyght shall speké for hem alle :
He kneleth doun unto the king,
And seith that they upon this thing,
Or for to winne, or for to lese,
Ben all avised for to chese.

Tho3 toke this knyght a yerd on honde, And goth there as the cofres stonde, And with assent of everychone He leith his yerde upon one, And seith the king how thilke same They chese in reguerdon by name, And preith him that they might it have. The king, which wolde his honor save, Whan he had heard the common vois, Hath granted hem her owne chois, And toke hem therupon the keie; But for he woldé it were seie 8 What good they have as they suppose, He bad anon the cofre unclose,

Which was fulfild with straw and stones:
Thus be they served all at ones.

This king than, in the samé stede,
Anon that other cofre undede,
Wher as they sihen gret richesse,
Wel more than they couthen gesse.
Lo! seith the king, now may ye se
That ther is no defalte in me;
Forthy my self I wol aquite,
And bereth ye your own wite 10
Of that 11 fortune hath you refused.
Thus was this wise king excused:
And they lefte off her evil speche,
And mercy of her king beseche.

SCOTTISH POETS.

The language of the Lowland districts of Scotland was based, like that of England, on the Teutonic, and it had, like the contemporary English, a Norman admixture. The names of places, however, and the permanent features of the country-the mountains, lakes, and riversare mostly Celtic. Some were modified; Strathclyde became Clydesdale, and Strathnith and Strathannan became Nithsdale and Annandale. In some instances, the Celtic kil, a cell or chapel, was supplanted by the Saxon kirk, as Kirkpatrick for Kilpatrick; but kil is still the most common prefix-as Kilmarnock, signifying the chapel of Marnoch, a famous Scottish saint. The oldest Scotch writing extant is a charter by Duncan II. in 1095. A few years before this, a new era began with Malcolm Canmore. What is called the Scoto-Saxon period of Scottish history commences. New races appear; Northumbrian nobles and their vassals, Norman knights and Flemish artisans, enter Scotland; not rapidly at first, but by a continued steady migration. The Saxon policy of Malcolm Canmore was carried out by his sons; and after half a century or more of continued colonisation, we find the Norman nobles-the Bruces, Baliols, Stewarts, Cummings, Douglases, Murrays, and Dunbars-seated in Scotland, and the Saxon language, laws, and ecclesiastical government naturalised, as it were, in the North. As

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7 As their reward. 11 That is, that which.

the English or Teutonic portion of the language
did not fall out of court favour in Scotland as in
England, it long continued in the north with little
change. The oldest fragment of Scottish poetry
has been preserved by Wyntoun, and is of a
plaintive cast:

Quhen Alysander oure kyng was dede
That Scotland led in luwe and le,1
Away wes sons 2 of ale and brede,
Of wyne and wax, of gamyn and gle;
Oure golde wes changyd into lede,
Cryst borne into virgynyte,
Succor Scotland and remede,
That stad is in perplexyte.

After the battle of Bannockburn (June 24, 1314), the Scots, 'inflamed with pride and derision of the English,' as Fabian the chronicler states, made this rhyme, which was 'after many days sung in the dances and carols of the maidens and minstrels of Scotland :'

Maydens of Englande, sore may ye morne

For your lemans ye have loste at Bannockysborne,
With heave alow!

What, weneth the kynge of Englande
So soone to have Scotlande?

With rumbylow!

JOHN BARBOUR.

Contemporary with Chaucer and Gower was the northern minstrel, JOHN BARBOUR. The date of his birth is unknown, but he is found exercising the duties of archdeacon of Aberdeen in 1357. That he was a man of talent and learning may be assumed from his having been chosen by the

the cathedral church of St Machar, at Aberdeen, until the Reformation-the expense of the service being defrayed from the perpetual annuity granted to the father of Scottish poetry by the first of the Stuart kings, in 1378, pro compilacione Libri de Gestis illustrissimi principis quondam Domini Regis Roberti de Brus.' Barbour's poem of The Bruce is valuable as a monument of our early language, and as a storehouse of historical incidents. But though he set himself to write a 'soothfast story,' the poet begins by departing widely from history. He confounds Bruce the grandfather with Bruce the grandson, and makes him reject the crown said to have been offered to him by Edward I.! Of course, he also conceals the fact, that the grandson had sworn fealty to Edward, and done homage to Baliol. He desired to present in Bruce a true hero and patriot trampling down oppression and vindicating the sacred rights of his country, and all that could militate against this design was excluded. Almost all the personal traits and adventures of Bruce-whatever gives individuality, life, and colour to his history The -will be found in the pages of Barbour. old poet's narrative of the wanderings, trials, sufferings, and fortitude of the monarch; the homely touches of tenderness and domestic feeling interspersed, as well as the knightly courtesy and royal intrepid bearing, which he paints in lively colours, have tended greatly to endear and perpetuate the name of the Scottish sovereign. The characters and exploits of Bruce's brave associates, Randolph and Douglas, are also finely drawn and the poem contains many vividly descriptive passages, and abounds in dignified and pathetic is fully as intelligible as that of Chaucer. It does The language bishop of Aberdeen to act as his commissioner at Edinburgh when the ransom of David II. was works of his southern contemporary. not appear that the Scottish poet had seen the One would debated; and also from the circumstance that he have wished that the bards had met, each the twice visited England with scholars, for the pur-representative of his country's literature, and each pose of studying at Oxford (1357 and 1364); that in 1365 he obtained a passport to 'travel through Barbour's poem, we may add, is in the octo-sylenjoying the favour and bounty of his sovereign. England with six companions on horseback towards St Denis and other sacred places;' and It has been well edited by Dr Jamieson (1820), labic verse, and consists of about 14,000 lines. that in 1368 he again received permission to travel and by Professor Cosmo Innes (1856). through England with two servants. At home, Barbour enjoyed royal favour. In 1373, he was clerk of audit of the household of King Robert II. and one of the auditors of exchequer. 1375, his epic poem, The Bruce, was in progress. In 1377, a sum of ten pounds was paid to Barbour by the king's command, as the first reward, it would seem, for the composition of the poem. This gift was followed, at the interval of a few months, by a grant to Barbour from the king of a perpetual annuity of twenty shillings. Barbour wrote another poem, now lost, called The Brut, relating the descent and history of the Stuarts from the fabulous King Brut, or Brutus. His reward for this second work seems to have been a pension for life of ten pounds a year. The pension was payable in two moieties-one at Whitsunday, the other at Martinmas. The last payment which Barbour received was at Martinmas 1394--so that he must have died between that date and Whitsunday 1395. The precise day of his death was probably the 13th of March, on which day Barbour's anniversary continued to be celebrated in

1 Love and law.

2 Plenty. 3 Standing. King Alexander died March 16, 1286.

In

sentiment. Humour it has none.

Apostrophe to Freedom.

A! fredome is a nobill thing!
Fredome mayse man to haiff liking!
Fredome all solace to man giffis :
He levys at ese that frely levys!
A noble hart may haiff nane ese,
Na ellys nocht that may him plese,
Gyff fredome failythe: for fre liking
Is yearnyt our all othir thing
Na he, that ay hase levyt fre,
May nocht knaw weill the propyrte,1
The angyr, na the wrechyt dome,
That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome.
Bot gyff he had assayit it,
Than all perquer 3 he suld it wyt ;
And suld think fredome mar to pryse
Than all the gold in warld that is.

Barbour makes no mention of Wallace. So ardent a worshipper of freedom might have been expected to strike a note in honour of one who sacrificed life itself in pure devotion to that cause. But to recall Wallace would have jarred with his

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unqualified eulogy of Bruce, and was not necessary towards the unity of his design. His poem begins with the story of the Bruce, and ends with the burial of his heart at Melrose.

In the subsequent extracts from Barbour and Wyntoun, the cumbrous spelling is reduced, without interference with the rhythm or obsolete words.

Bruce's Address to his Army at Bannockburn.

On Sunday then, in the morning,
Weil soon after the son rising,
They heard their mass commonaly;
And mony them shrave1 full devoutly,
That thocht to die in that melée,
Or then to make their country free!
To God for their right prayed they :
Their dined nane of them that day;
But, for the vigil of Sanct Jhane,
They fasted, water and bread ilk ane.
The king, when that the mass was done,
Went forth to see the potis2 soon,
And at his liking saw them made,
On either side right weill braid.
It was pitied, as I have tauld,

If that their faes on horse would hald
Forth in that way, I trow they sal
Nocht weill escape for-outen a fall.
Throughout the host then gart 3 he cry
That all should arm them hastily,
And busk them on their best manner;
And when they assembled were,
He gart array them for the fight:
And syne gart cry oure all on height,
That wha soever he were that fand
His heart nocht sicker for to stand
To win all or die with honour,
For to maintain that stalwart stour,
That he betime should hald his way;
And nane should dwell with them but they
That would stand with him to the end,
And tak the ure that God would send.
Then all answered with a cry,
And with a voice said generally
That nane for doubt of deid should fail
Quhill' discomfit were the great battaile.

Death of Sir Henry de Bohun.
And when Gloster and Hereford were
With their battle approachand near,
Before them all there came ridand,
With helm on heid and spear in hand,
Sir Henry the Boune, the worthy,
That was a wicht knicht, and a hardy,
And to the Earl of Hereford cousin ;
Armed in arms gude and fine;
Came on a steed a bowshot near,
Before all other that there were :
And knew the king, for that he saw
Him sae range his men on raw,
And by the crown that was set
Also upon his bassinet.

And toward him he went in hy.8
And the king sae apertly?

Saw him come, forouth all his fears,

In hy till him the horse he steers.
And when Sir Henry saw the king
Come on, foroutin abasing,
Till him he rode in great hy.

He thought that he should weel lichtly
Win him, and have him at his will,

Sin' he him horsit saw sae ill.

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Sprent they samen intill a lyng;1
Sir Henry missed the noble king;
And he that in his stirrups stude,
With the ax, that was hard and gude,
With sae great main, raucht him a dint,
That nouther hat nor helm micht stint
The heavy dush, that he him gave,
That near the head till the harns clave.
The hand-ax shaft frushit in tway;
And he down to the yird gan gae
All flatlings, for him failit micht.
This was the first straik of the ficht...
When that the king repairit was,
That gart his men all leave the chase,
The lordis of his company

Blamed him, as they durst, greatumly,
That he him put in aventure,

To meet sae stith a knicht, and stour,2
In sic point as he then was seen.
For they said weel, it micht have been
Cause of their tynsal3 everilk ane.

4

The king answer has made them nane,
But mainit his hand-ax shaft sae
Was with the straik broken in tway.

The Battle.

The Scottismen commonally
Kneelit all doun, to God to pray.
And a short prayer there made they
To God, to help them in that ficht.
And when the English king had sicht
Of them kneeland, he said, in hy:
'Yon folk kneel to ask mercy.'

Sir Ingram said: 'Ye say sooth now-
They ask mercy, but not of you;
For their trespass to God they cry:
I tell you a thing sickerly,

That yon men will all win or die;
For doubt of deid they sall not flee.'
'Now be it sae then!' said the king.
And then, but langer delaying,
They gart trump till the assembly.
On either side men micht then see
Mony a wicht man and worthy,
Ready to do chivalry.

Thus were they bound on either side;
And Englishmen, with mickle pride,
That were intill their avaward,?

To the battle that Sir Edward 8

Governt and led, held straight their way.
The horse with spurs hastened they,
And prickit upon them sturdily;
And they met them richt hardily.
Sae that, at their assembly there,
Sic a frushing of spears were,
That far away men micht it hear,
That at that meeting forouten were.
Were steeds stickit mony ane;

And mony gude man borne doun and slain;...
They dang on other with wappins sair,
Some of the horse, that stickit were,
Rushit and reelit richt rudely....

The gude earl thither took the way,
With his battle, in gude array,
And assemblit sae hardily,

That men micht hear had they been by,
A great frush of the spears that brast.
There micht men see a hard battle,
And some defend and some assail;
Sae that it seemit weel that they

1 Sprang forward in a line. 3 Loss.

5 Sir Ingram d'Umphraville.

7 The van of the English army.

9 The Earl of Murreff' or Murray.

...

2 Steady a knight, and battle.

4 Moaned, lamented..

6 Fear of death.

8 Edward Bruce.

Were tint, amang sae great menyie,1
As they were plungit in the sea.
And when the Englishmen has seen
The earl and all his men, bedeen,
Faucht sae stoutly, but effraying,
Richt as they had nae abasing;
Them pressit they with all their micht.
And they, with spears and swerds bricht,
And axes, that richt sharply share
I'mids the visage, met them there.
There men micht see a stalwart stour,
And mony men of great valour,
With spears, maces, and knives,
And other wappins, wisslit their lives:
Sae that mony fell doun all deid.

The grass waxed with the blude all red....
There micht men hear mony a dint,
And wappins upon armours stint.
And see tumble knichts and steeds,
And mony rich and royal weeds
Defoullit foully under feet.

Some held on loft; some tint the seat.
A lang time thus fechting they were ;
That men nae noise micht hear there;
Men heard noucht but granes and dints,
That flew fire, as men flays on flints.
They foucht ilk ane sae eagerly,
That they made nae noise nor cry,
But dang on other at their micht,

With wappins that were burnist bricht....
All four their battles with that were
Fechting in a front halily.

Almighty God! how douchtily

Sir Edward the Bruce and his men
Amang their faes conteinit them than!
Fechting in sae gude covine,3
Sae hardy, worthy, and sae fine,
That their vaward frushit was....
Almighty God! wha then micht see
That Stewart Walter, and his rout,
And the gude Douglas, that was sae stout,
Fechting into that stalwart stour;
He sould say that till all honour
They were worthy that in that fight
Sae fast pressed their foes' might.
There micht men see mony a steed
Flying astray, that lord had nane....
There micht men hear ensenzies cry:
And Scottismen cry hardily:

'On them! On them! On them! They fail!'
With that sae hard they gan assail,

And slew all that they micht o'erta'.
And the Scots archers alsua

Shot amang them sae deliverly,
Engrieving them sae greatumly,

That what for them, that with them faucht,
That sae great routis to them raucht,
And pressit them full eagerly;

And what for arrowis, that felly
Mony great wounds gan them ma',

And slew fast off their horse alsua....

The appearance of a mock host, composed of the servants of the Scottish camp, completes the panic of the English army; the king flees, and Sir Giles d'Argentine, rather than live shamefully and flee,' bids the king farewell, and rushing again into the fight, is slain. The narrative adds:

They were, to say sooth, sae aghast,
And fled sae fast, richt effrayitly,
That of them a full great party
Fled to the water of Forth, and there
The maist part of them drownit were.
And Bannockburn, betwixt the braes,
Of men, of horse, sae steekit was,
That, upon drownit horse and men,
Men micht pass dry out-ower it then.

1 Lost among so great a company. 3 Company.

4 Also.

ANDREW WYNTOUN.

About the year 1420, ANDREW WYNTOUN, or, as he describes himself, Androwe of Wyntoune, a canon of St Andrews, and prior of St Serf's Monastery in Lochleven, completed, in eight-syllabled metre, an Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland, including much universal history, and extending down to his own time: it may be considered as a Scottish member of the class of rhymed chronicles, and belongs in style to the authors in this section, though produced in part at a later period than Barbour's history. The prior undertook his chronicle at the suggestion of Sir John Wemyss. He divides it into nine books, 'in honowre of the ordrys nyne.' It contains a considerable number of fabulous legends, such as we may suppose to have been told beside the evening-fire of a monastery of those days, and which convey a curious idea of the credulity of the age. The chronicle has little poetical merit, and is greatly inferior to Barbour's Bruce, but is interesting for the view it affords of the language, attainments, and manners of the author's time and country. A fine edition of the work, edited by David Macpherson, was published in 1795. The time of Wyntoun's death has not been stated, but he is supposed to have died shortly after completing his chronicle.

Macbeth and the Weird Sisters.

A nycht he thowcht in hys dremyng,
That syttand he wes besyd the kyng
At a sete in hwntyng; swa

Intil his leisch had grewhundys twa :
He thowcht, quhile he wes swa syttand,
He sawe thre wemen by gangand;
And thai wemen than thowcht he
Thre werd systrys mast lyk to be.
The first he hard say, gangand by,

'Lo, yhondyr the Thane of Crumbawchty !'1
The tothir woman sayd agane,

'Of Morave yhondyre I se the thane !'
The thryd than sayd, 'I se the king!'
All this he herd in his dremyng..
Sone eftyre that, in his yhowthad,2
Of thyr thanydoms he thane wes made;
Syne neyst he thowcht to be king,
Fra Dunkanyis dayis had tane endyng.
The fantasy thus of his dreme
Movyd hym mast to sla his eme ;3
As he dyd all furth in-dede,
As before yhe herd one rede,

3

And Dame Grwok, his emys wyf,
Tuk, and led wyth hyr hys lyf,

And held hyr bathe hys wyf and queyne,
As befor than scho had beyne

Till hys eme qwene, lyvand

Quhen he was kyng with crowne rygnend
For lytil in honowre than had he
The greys of affynyte.

All thus quhen his eme was dede,
He succeedyt in his stede;
And sevyntene wyntyr full rygnand
As kyng he wes than in-til Scotland.
All hys tyme wes gret plenté
Abowndand, bath on land and se.

He was in justice rycht lawchful,

And till hys legis all awful.

Quhen Leo the tend was Pape of Rome,"

As pylgryne to the court he come ;

1 Cromarty. 4 Gruoch.

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2 Youthhood.

3 Uncle (Ang.-Sax. eam). 5 Degrees (Fr. gre).

6A chronological error of nearly five hundred years, for Macbeth visited Rome during the pontificate of Leo the Ninth.—Irving,

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