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ungodly life, and of using slanderous conversation, was brought to trial before his ecclesiastical superiors, the presbytery of Glasgow. He denied all things which were laid to his charge, and the following evidence was adduced :

"John Huchesoune, one of the bailies of Paisley, depones, that the accused had a book by Mr Michael Scott of unlawful arts, that he saw him buy Albertus Magnus; that he heard him speak of divers unlawfull conceits; that he was told long ago that he was wont to make lascivious ballads and sonnets; that he is evil spoken off; that his wife told him that one night in his absence, the accused came to his house, and having asked why they were so late of taking supper, said, 'What will you give me if I tell you what is in your cupboard ?"2

"William Alpe depones, that he saw in the possession of the accused a book of unlawful arts; that

'The unhappy Book of Canons promulgated by King Charles I. in 1636, ordains that no ecclesiastical persons "shall give themselves to the studie of unlawfull arts and sciences; nor consult with those who are infamous for Magicke, Sorcerie, or Divination; under the payne of deprivation for the first and degradation for the second offence."-Canons and Constitutions Ecclesiasticall, chap. iv. § 8, p. 18, edit. Aberd. 1636.

2 This is probably an allusion to the trick commemorated in Dunbar's Twae Freris of Berwick, and afterwards in Allan Ramsay's Monk and Miller's Wife.

the accused was wont to terrify him at school; that he has been told that he made ballads and sonnets; and that he bears not a good reputation.

"Thomas Whyte depones, that the accused is greedy and covetous; and that one John Semple gave him money to avert an attack of leprosy.

"William Martein depones, that lying one night in the same chamber with the accused, and having asked him what he would do with all his gold, the said Mr George said he knew when he would die, and he would then distribute his wealth, one gold piece to one good fellow, and one to another, that would but say God be with you. Being farther asked how he knew when he would die, he answered, he knew that very well, and that he could lay six lines beneath the witness's head which would make him know as much.

"Mr Thomas Muir depones, that Mr George, preaching on one of the petitions of the Lord's prayer, and making a comparison between the authority of an earthly prince and of the King of Heaven, did repeat the tenor of the king's letters of horning down to the words, ' our will is herefor.'

"Robert Steinstoune depones, that Mr George caused a poor man, Arthur Din, and Margaret Semple his wife, pay his tavern bill ('paye his lawing'); that it is his fashion oftentimes so to do; and that he is very greedy.

John Park depones, that Mr George took from him nineteen merks for two bolls of meal, and would not give him a receipt for the price; and that the said Mr George is very greedy.

"Patrick Bartlomew depones, that a year ago he heard Mr George preach from the pulpit that a woman would not believe that her cake ('bannock') was baked until she felt it with her nails."

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What was the issue of the trial is not known. The presbytery ordered him to preach before them, when they declared that they were nowise satisfied, and thought him unmeet and insufficient to edify at the kirk of Killellan.”

XLVI.

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DEATH-SONG OF ASBJORN.

OUR makers of operas and operatic plays perhaps care nothing for the objection that never any where but in their pieces did such accidents happen, as that two gentlemen lying in concealment should conjure each other to be silent in strains which make all the welkin ring; or that a young lady, who confesses that she is dying to run into her lover's arms, should persist in carolling a duet with him of fifteen minutes' length before she will suffer him to touch even the tip of her glove. Such things may be absurd, but they are not without a precedent

1 Miscellany of the Maitland Club, vol. i. p. 420-425.

in literature. If we make allowance for the difference of manners represented, there will be found much semblance between the modern Opera and the old Saga. In the records of the heroic age of Scandinavia, the champions have but two occupations, to fight and to sing; or rather every exploit, whether of war or love, is begun, carried on, and ended in song. There is more than one English version of the death-chant of Ragnar Lodbrok, composed in the agonies of the frightful doom which he suffered by being cast into a dungeon filled with snakes; and M. Rafn, the greatest of Danish antiquaries, has recently maintained the authenticity of this extraordinary poem.1 The Saga of Olaf Trygvasson preserves a lyric made in circumstances perhaps still more singular. Asbjorn, a renowned warrior, who from his beauty was surnamed the Handsome, fell into the power of Brusi, a giant of enormous stature. "We shall now see if you are braver than other men,' cried the Titan, taking him up and stripping off his clothes. will prove small,' said Asbjorn;

'My courage unhappily has it

befallen me; I have been able to make no resistance, and it is most likely that I have seen my last day.' Therewithal he sung,―

'Let none in his own might confide,

Nor glory in his skill;

1 Krakas-maal adgivet af Rafn. Kiopn. 1826. Lettres sur L'Islande par X, Marmier, p. 152. Paris, 1837.

Vain is the boast of strength, the pride
Of courage vainer still :

For when it comes, the destined hour,
And adverse fates prevail,

The strongest arm will lose its power,
The stoutest heart will quail.'

"Then Brusi, having opened the side of Asbjorn, seized the end of his intestines, and tying them to an iron pillar in the cave, began to lead Asbjorn round it, who, making no resistance, followed until all his bowels were coiled round the column. the interval he sung these verses." The chant contains eight stanzas; with some distrust I venture to submit an imitation of the first two:

"Stately as Vinland's swan of snow

My mother walks the Danish shore;
Too soon my hapless fate she'll know,—

She'll comb and deck my hair no more.
She made me plight my troth, and vow
I would be back ere harvest tide ;-
The giant's arms are round me now,
The giant's sword is in my side.

"Far different was that day, I trow,
When through Hordiar's Firth we steer'd,

And mirth lit up each warrior's brow,
As fast and far our bark career'd:

In

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