Our king has written a braid letter,

And seal'd it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,

Was walking on the strand.

“To Noroway, to Noroway,

To Noroway o'er the faem;
The king's daughter of Noroway,

'Tis thou maun bring her hame.”.

The first word that Sir Patrick read.

Sae loud loud laughed he:
The neist " word that Sir Patrick read,

The tear blinded his e'e.

"O wha is this has done this deed,

And tauld the king o' me,
To send us out, at this time of the year,

To sail upon the sea ?

Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,

Our ship must sail the faem; The king's daughter of Noroway,

'Tis we must fetch her hame.”

They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn,

Wi' a'the speed they may; They ha'e landed in Noroway,

Upon a Wodensday.

They hadna been a week, a week,

In Noroway, but twae,
When that the lords o' Noroway

Began aloud to say
“Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud,

And a our queenis fee.”. “Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud!

Fu' loud I hear ye lie;

For I ha'e brought as much white monie,

As gane my men and me, And I ha'e brought a half-fou“ of gude red goud,

Out o'er the sea wi' me.

Make ready, make ready, my merry-men a'!

Our gude ship sails the morn.". “Now, ever alake, my master dear,

I fear a deadly storm!

I saw the new moon, late yestreen,

Wi' the auld moon in her arm; And, if we gang to sea, master,

I fear we'll come to harm."

They hadna sail'd a league, a league,

A league but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,

And gurly grew the sea.

The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap,

It was sic a deadly storm;
And the waves cam o'er the broken ship,

Till a' her sides were torn.

“O where will I get a gude sailor,

To take my helm in hand,
Til I get up to the tall top-mast,

To see if I can spy land ?”

“O here am I, a sailor gude,

To take the helm in hand,
Till you go up to the tall top-mast;

But I fear you'll ne'er spy land.”

He hadna gane a step, a step,

A step but barely ane,
When a boult flew out of our goodly ship,

And the salt sea it came in.

“Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith,

Another o' the twine,
And wap them into our ship's side,

And let nae the sea come in.”

They fetch'd a web o' the silken claith,

Another o' the twine, And they wapp'd them round that gude ship's side,

But still the sea came in.

O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords

To weet · their cork-heel'd shoon ! 6 But lang or' a' the play was play'd,

They wat their hats aboon.8
Any mony was the feather bed,

That floated on the faem;
And mony was the gude lord's son,

That never mair cam hame.

6 To wet.

6 Shoes,

7 Before.

8 Above.

The ladyes wrang their fingers white,

The maidens tore their hair,
A' for the sake of their true loves,

For them they'll see nae mair.

O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit,

Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens

Come sailing to the strand !

And lang, lang, may the maidens sit,

With their goud kaims in their hair, A’ waiting for their ain dear loves !

For them they'll see nae mair.

Half owre, half owre to Aberdour,

'Tis fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,

Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet!

9 Combs.

35. The Two Corbies.

There were two corbies sat on a tree,
Large and black as black might be;
And one the other gan say,
Where shall we go and dine to-day?
Shall we go dine by the wild salt sea ?
Shall we go dine 'neath the greenwood tree?

As I sat on the deep sea sand,
I saw a fair ship nigh at land,
I waved my wings, I bent my beak,
The ship sunk, and I heard a shriek;
There they lie, one, two, and three,
I shall dine by the wild salt sea.

Come, I will show ye a sweeter sight,
A lonesome glen, and a new-slain knight;
His blood yet on the grass is hot,
His sword half-drawn, his shafts unshot,
And no one kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame,

His lady's away with another mate,
So we shall make our dinner sweet;
Our dinner's sure, our feasting free,
Come, and dine by the greenwood tree.

Ye shalt sit on his white hause-bane,'
I will pick out his bony blue een;
Ye'll take a tress of his yellow hair,
To theak yere nest when it grows bare;
The gowden? down on his young chin
Will do to sewe my young ones in.

O, cauld and bare will his bed be,
When winter storms sing in the tree;
At his head a turf, at his feet a stone,
He will sleep nor hear the maiden's moan;
O'er his white bones the birds shall fly,
The wild deer bound, and foxes cry.

CHAPTER IV.

THE ELIZABETHAN POETS (INCLUDING THE REIGN OF

JAMES 1.).

36. GEORGE GASCOIGNE. 1530–1577. (Manual, p. 71.)

THE VANITY OF THE BEAUTIFUL.

They course the glass, and let it take no rest;
They pass and spy who gazeth on their face;
They darkly ask whose beauty seemeth best;
They hark and mark who marketh most their grace;
They stay their steps, and stalk a stately pace;
They jealous are of every sight they see;
They strive to seem, but never care to be.

What grudge and grief our joys may then suppress,
To see our hairs, which yellow were as gold,
Now grey as glass; to feel and find them less;
To scrape the bald skull which was wont to hold
Our lovely locks with curling sticks contrould;
To look in glass, and spy Sir Wrinkle's chair
Set fast on fronts which erst were sleek and fair.

37. THOMAS SACKVILLE, LORD BUCKHURST. (Manual,

p. 72.)

ALLEGORICAL PERSONAGES IN HELL.

From the Induction to the Mirrour for Magistrates.

And first within the porch and jaws of Hell
Sat deep Remorse of Conscience, all besprent
With tears; and to herself oft would she tell
Her wretchedness, and cursing never stent?