THE word of denial, and letter of fifty,
Is that gentleman's name that will never be thrifty.
Characters of Four Knights of Nottinghamshire. Gervase the gentle, Stanhope the stout, Markham the lion, and Sutton the lout.
Lines written in defiance of Fortune. Never think you, Fortune can bear the sway, Where Virtue's force can cause her to obey.
An English Hexameter, composed in Imitation of SIR P. SIDNEY.
Persius, a crab-staff; bawdy Martial; Ovid, a fine wag.
Sir Walter Raleigh having written on a window,
Fain would I climb, yet fear I to fall;
Elizabeth wrote under it,
If thy heart fail thee, climb not at all.
Was daughter of Sir James Melvill of Halhill, and wife of Colvill of Culross. She wrote Ane Godlie Dreame, compylit in Scottish Meter, the first edition of which appeared at Edinburgh, 1603, 4to. In a volume of Various Poetry, in the British Museum, is an edition of her poem, printed at Aberdeen in 1644, "by E. Raban, Laird of letters :" Beloe, (Anecdotes of Lit.) speaking of this edition, observes, that "perhaps no printer or publisher, before or since, has assumed so strange and singular a title as Mr. Raban." I find in the same volume of V. P. an edition of The Cherrie and the Slae, printed in 1645, by the said Raban, who again styles himself "Laird of letters."
The following specimen of Ane Godlie Dreame is given from the first edition. In later editions the language has been Anglicised.
I LUIKIT down and saw ane pit most black, Most full of smock, and flaming fyre most fell; That vglie sicht maid mee to flie aback,
I feirit to heir so many shout and yell:
I him besocht that hee the treuth wald tell-
Is this, said I, the Papists' purging place,
Quhair they affirme that sillie saulles do dwell,
To purge thair sin, befoir they rest in peace?
The braine of man maist warlie did invent
That Purging place, he answerit mee againe :
For grediness together they consent
Το
say that saulles in torment mon remaine,
Till gold and gudes releif them of thair paine.
O spytfull spreits that did the same begin!
O blindit beists, your thochts ar all in vaine,
My blude alone did saif thy saull from sin.
This Pit is Hell, quhairthrow thou now mon go.
Thair is thy way that leids thee to the land:
Now play the man, thou neids not trimbill so,
For I sall help and hald thee by the hand.
Allace! said I, I have na force to stand,
For feir I faint to sie that vglie sicht:
How can I cum among that bailfull band?
O help mee now, I have na force nor micht!
Oft have I heard, that they that enters thair,
In this greit golfe, sall never cum againe :
Curage, said hee, have I not bocht thee deir?
My precious blude it was nocht shed in vaine.
I saw this place, my saull did taist this paine,
Or ever I went into my Father's gloir;
Throw mon thou go, bot thou sall not remaine,
Thou neids not feir, for I sall go befoir.
I am content to do thy haill command,
Said I againe, and did him fast imbrace :
Then lovenglie he held mee be the hand,
And in wee went into that feirfull place.
Hald fast thy grip, said hee, in any cace
Let mee not slip, quhat ever thou sall sie;
Dreid not the deith, bot stoutlie forwart preis,
For Deith nor Hell sall never vanquish thee.
His words sa sweit did cheir my heavie hairt,
Incontinent I cuist my cair asyde:
Curage, said hee, play not ane cowart's part,
Thocht thou be waik, zit in my strenth confyde.
I thocht me blist to have sa gude ane guyde,
Thocht I was waik, I knew that he was strang;
Under his wings I thocht me for to hyde,
Gif anie thair sould preis to do mee wrang.
Into that Pit, quhen I did enter in,
I saw an sicht quhilk maid my heart agast,-
Puir damnit saullis, tormentit sair for sin
In flaming fyre, war frying wonder fast:
And vglie spreits, and as we thocht them past,
My heart grew faint, and I begouth to tyre;
Or I was war, ane gripit mee at last,
And held me heich above ane flaming fyre.
The fyre was greit, the heit did peirs me sair,
My faith grew waik, my grip was wonderous small,
I trimbellit fast, my feir grew mair and mair,
My hands did shaik, that I him held withall.
At length thay lousit, than they begouth to fall,
I cryet, O Lord! and caught him fast againe,
Lord Jesus, cum, and red mee out of thrall:
Curage, said he, now thou art past the paine.
With this greit feir, I stackerit and awoke,
Crying, O Lord! Lord Jesus, cum againe :
Bot efter this no kynde of rest I tuke,
I preisit to sleip, bot that was all in vaine.
I wald have dreamit of pleasur efter paine,
Becaus I knaw I sall it finde at last :
God grant my guyde may still with mee remaine,
It is to cum that I beleifit was past.
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