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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 .oud,

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 16 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.

. To wot

6 Shoes.

i Before

The ladyes wrang their fingers white,

The maidens tore their hair,
A' for the sake of their true .oves, --

For them they'll see nae n.air.

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 mrair.

Half owre, half owre to Aberdour,

'Tis fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spear, Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet!

9 Comba.

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 trees

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 lad; fair,

His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetc! the wild fowl hamo,

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 fixes cry.

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9 Golden 1 Stopped.

CHAPTER IV.

NIE ELIZABETHAX POETS (INCLUDING THE REIGN OP

JAMES 1.).

36. GEORGE GASCOIGNE. 1530–1577. (Manual, p. 71.1

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 controul'd;
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 IX 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'

To sob and sigh; but ever thus lament
With thoughtful care, as she that all 1. vain
Woald wear and waste continually in pain.

Her eyes unstedfast, rolling here and there,
Whirl'd on each place, as place that vengeance brought
So was her mind continually in fear,
To:s'd and tormented by the tedious thought
Of those detested crimes which she had wrought :
With dreadful cheer and looks thrown to the sky,
Wishing for death, and yet she could not die.

Next saw we Dread, all trembling how he shook,
With foot uncertain proffer'd here and there;
Benumm'd of speech, and with a ghastly look,
Search'd every place, all pale and dead for fear;
His cap upborn with staring of his hair,
Stoyn'd? and amazed at his shade for dread,
And fearing greater dangers than was need.

And next within the entry of this lake
Sat fell Revenge, gnashing her teeth for ire,
Devising means how she may vengeance take,
Never in rest till she have her desire;
But frets within so far forth with the fire
Of wreaking flames, that now determines she
To die by death, or veng'd by death to be.

When fell Revenge, with bloody foul pretence,
Had shewed herself, as next in order set,
With trembling limbs we softly parted thence,
Till in our eyes another sight we met,
When from my heart a sigh forth with I fet,
Rewing, alas! upon the woeful plight
Of Misery, that next appear'd in sight.

His face was lean and some-deal pin'd away,
And eke his handes consumed to the bone,
But what his body was I cannot say;
For on his carcass raiment had he none,
Save clouts and patches, pieced one by one,
With staff in hand, and scrip on shoulders caes
His chief defence against the winters blast.

His food, for most, was wild fruits of the tree;
Unless sometime some crumbs fell to his share,
Which in his wallet long, God wot, kept he,
# Astonished

3 Fetched

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