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lent thou me thy mantil ioy, The Persee and the Mongumrye met, that day, that gentil day, My luf is laid upon ane Knycht, Allace that samyn sueit face, In ane myrthful morou, My hart is ‘leinit on the land. Thir scheiphirdis ande there vyuis sang mony vther melodius Sangis, the quilkis i hef nocht in memorie : than efter this sueit celest armonye tha began to dance,' &c.

Ritson and Leyden, with great industry searched for these songs, and the result of their gleanings is very little; to copy their extracts, snatches of lines, and half chorusses, would be next to useless : they have no beauty to recommend them, and throw little light on the subject of song. The song commencing 'O lusty Maye vitht Flora quene,' has been published entire ; I would assign it to Alexander Scott.

o, lustie Maye, with Flora quene,
The balmy drops from Phæbus sheene

Prelucent beam before the day;
By thee, Diana, groweth green,

Through gladness of this lusty May.
Then Aurora, that is so bright,
To woful hearts she casts great light,

Right pleasantly before the day,
And shows and sheds forth of that light,

Through gladness of this lusty May.
Birds on their boughs, of every sort
Send forth their notes and make great mirth

On banks that bloom, and every brae;
And fare and flee ower every firth,

Through gladness of this lusty May.
And lovers all that are in care
To their ladies they do repair,

In fresh morning before the day;
And are in mirth aye mair and mair,
Through gladness of this lusty May.

Of everie moneth in the year
To mirthful May there is no peer;

Her glistering garments are so gay ;
You lovers all make merry cheer

Throngh gladness of this lusty May.*

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The Ballads of Chevy Chace and Otterbourne, were among the

SWEIT Sangis sung by the Scheiphirdis' !

Mr. David Laing has preserved the following Lament made by some young lady about this period for the loss of what King James calls “ her yellow lokkis ;" as it stands it is but a fragment, having some lines eked out by the hand of Mr. Kirkpatrick Sharpe, but it is a pathetic fragment.

• Fareweill, fare' weill, my yellow hair,
. That curlit cleir' into my neck !
• Allace !' that ever it grew sae fair,
• Or yet in' to ane snood was knet.

Qu' har I was wont to dance and sing;
A' mang my marrows mak repair-
Now am I put furth of the ring,
For fadit is my yellow hair.
My kirtill was of lincu'm green,'
Weill lacit with silk'en passments rair ;'
God gif I had never pridefull . been,'
For fadit is my yellow hair.

* It must be remembered that the above is printed from a modernized copy in the Aberdeen Cantus, 1666. The second verse appears thus in the Bannatyne M$.

Than Esperus, that is so bricht
Till wofull hairtis, castis his lyt

We bankis that blumes (on euery bray)—bis;
And schuris are sched furt of that sicht
Thruch glaidnes of this lusty May.

Scott's Poems by Laing, p. 99.

God gif my hair had been als b'lak'
As ever wes my heart full of cair,
It wald not put me to sic lak,
For fadit is my yellow hair.
Quhen I was young I had great st'ait,'
Weill cherishit baith with less and ma'ir,'
For shame now steill I off the gait,
For fadit is my yellow hair.
I wes our wanton of intent
“ of wardlie joys I tuke my share ;
But sin hes nocht bat sorrow sent,”
And fadit is my yellow hair.

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God gif the dait of luf wer gane,
That I micht die, and luf na mairi
To Jesu Christ, I mak my mane,
And fadit is my yellow hair.
Sen all this folly is by went,
Out of this warld I maun repair ;
I pray to God Omnipotent,
To tak me, sinner, full of cair !


Laing's Early Met. Tales, p. xlviii.

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Alexander Scott, called by Pinkerton,' the Anacreon of old Scottish Poetry,' flourished during the sixteenth century (born 1520). The following stanzas are considered by David Laing to be in his best man.

Scott has certainly sacrificed thought for the sake of rhyme.




Hence hairt wt hir that myst departe

And hald the wt thy souerane;
For I had lever want ane harte,

Nor haif the hairt that dois me pane
Thairfoir, go, w' thy lufe remane,

And lat me leif thus ynmolest;
And se that thow cum not agane,

Bot byd wt hir thow luvis best.

Sen scho that I haif seruit lang

Is to depairt so suddanly
Address the now, for thow sall gang

And beir thy lady cumpany :
ffra scho be gon, hairtless am 1;

ffor quhy/ thow art we hir possest; Thairfoir my hairt! go hence in hy, And byd wt hir thow luvis best.

Scott's Poems by Laing, p. 29.

It is right to notice here that the ' ballads of * Allane-a’-Maut,' and 'the Wyf of Auchtermuchty,' were both sung in the middle of the sixteenth century, and are preserved in the Bannatyne MS. 1568 : from whence I extract as a good specimen of old song, the popular story of


Robeyns Jok come to wow our Jynny,
On our feist evin quhen we wer fow;
Scho brankit fast, and maid hir bony,
And said, Jok, come ye for to wow?
Scho birneist hir baith breist and brow,
And maid hir cleir as ony clok ;
Than spak hir deme, and said, I trow,
Ye come to wow our Jynny, Jok.

Jok said, forsuth I yern full fane,
To luk my heid, and sit doun by yow,
Than spak hir modir, and said agane,
My bairne hes tocher-gnd to ge yow.
Te he, quoth Jynny, keik, keik, I se yow;
Muder, yone man makis yow a mok.
I schro the, lyar! full leis nie you,
I come to wow your Jynny, quoth Jok.

My berne, scho sayis, hes of hir awin,
Ane guss, ane gryce, ane cok, ane hen,
Ane calf, ane hog, ane fute-braid sawin,
Ane kirn, ane pin, that ye weill ken,

Ane pig, ane pot, ane raip thair ben,
Ane fork, ane flaik, ane reill, ane rok,
Dischis and dublaris nyne or ten :
Come ye to wow our Jynny, Jok ?

Ane blanket, and ane wecht also,
Ane schule, ape scheit, and ane lang flail,
Ane ark, ane almry, and laidillis two,
Ane milk-syth, with ane swyne taill
Ane rowsty quhittil to scheir the kaill,
Ane quheill, ane mell the beir to knok,
Ane coig, ane caird wantand ane naill :
Come ye ' to wow our Jynny, Jok?'

Ane furme, ane furlet, ane pott, ane pek,
Ane tub, ane barrow, with ane quheilband,
Ane turs, ane troch, and ane meil-sek,
Ane spurtill braid, and ane elwand.
Jok tak Jynny be the hand,
And cryd, Ane feist; and slew ane cok,
And maid a brydell vp alland ;
Now haif I gottin your Jynny, quoth Jok.

Now, demė, 1 haif your bairne mareit;
Suppois ye mak it never sa twche,
I lat yow wit schos nocht miskareit,
It is weill kend I haif annwch :
Ane crukit gleyd fell our ane huch,
Ane spaid, ane speit, ane spur, ane sok,
Without oxin I haif a pluche
To gang to gidder Jynny and Jok.

I haif ane helter, ane eik, ane hek,
Ane coird, ane creill, and als ane cradill,
Fyve fidder of raggis to stuff ane jak,
Ane auld pannell of ane laid sadill,
Ane pepper-polk maid of a padill,
Ane spounge, ane spindill wantand ane nok,
Twa lusty lippis to lik ane laiddill,
To gang to gidder Jynny and Jok.

Ane brechame, and twa brochis fyne
Weill buklit with a brydill renye,
Ane sark maid of the linkome twyne,
Ane gay grene cloke that will nocht stenye

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