Alas! who was there in philosophy

To1 Aristotle in our tongue, but thou?
The steppes of Virgile in poesie

Thou suedest2 eke; men knowë well enow
That cumber-world3 that hath my master slow.
Would I slain were ! death was too hastife5
To run on thee and reave thee of thy life.

She might have tarried her vengeance a while
Till that some man had equal to thee be;
Nay, let that be; she knew well that this isle
May never more bring forth like unto thee;
And her office needēs do must she;

God bade her so; I trust for all the best.
O master, master, God thy soulë rest!

LYDGATE

(OUTLINE HISTORY, § 16)

A RURAL RETREAT

(From the Troy Boke)

TILL at the last, among the boughës glade,
Of adventure,' I caught a pleasant shade;
Full smooth and plain and lusty for to seen,
And soft as velvet was the younge green;
Where from my horse I did alight as fast,
And on a bough aloft his reinë cast.
So faint and mates of weariness I was,
That I me laid adown upon the grass,
Upon a brinkë, shortly for to tell,
Beside the river of a crystal well;
And the water as I rehersẽ can,

Like quickë silver in his streamës ran,

Of which the gravel and the brightë stone,

As any gold, against the sun y-shone.

1 Equal to.

• Slain.

7 By chance.

2 Followest.
'Hasty.

3 Encumbrance-death.

• Bereave.

• Stupefied.

JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND

(OUTLINE HISTORY, § 16)

HIS LADY-LOVE SEEN FROM HIS PRISON WINDOW

(From The King's Quair)

AND therewith cast I down mine eye again,
Where as I saw, walking under the Tower,
Full secretly, new comen her to playne,1
The fairest and the freshest younge flower
That e'er I saw (methought) before that hour:
For which sudden abate2 anon astart3
The blood of all my body to my heart.
And though I stood abasëd there a lite,4
No wonder was; for why my wittës all
Were so o'ercome with pleasance and delight,
Only through letting of mine eyen fall,
That suddenly my heart became her thrall
For ever; of free will; for of menace
There was no token in her sweetë face.

And in my head I drew right hastily,
And eft-soones I lean'd it out again,
And saw her walk that very womanly,

6

With no wight mo,' but only women twain.
Then gave I study in myself, and sayn,

Ah, sweet! are ye a worldly creature,

Or heavenly thing in likeness of nature ?

'Or are ye god Cupidë's own princess, And comen are to loose me out of band ? Or are ye very Nature, the goddess

That have depainted with your heavenly hand This garden full of flowers as they stand ? What shall I think, alas! what reverence

Shall I minister to your excellence ?

Play. Because.

Shock. 'Person.

3 Started.
' More.

• Little.

If

ye be worldly wight, that doth me sike,2
Why list God make you so, my dearest heart,
To do a selly3 prisoner this smart,

That loves you all, and wots of nought but woe?
And therefore mercy, sweet! sin' it is so.'

DUNBAR

(OUTLINE HISTORY, § 16)

MAY MORNING

(From The Thistle and the Rose)

WHEN March was with varying windës past,
And April had, with her silver showers,
Ta'en leave at Nature, with an orient blast,
And lusty May, that mother is of flowers,
Had made the birdēs to begin their hours5
Among the tender odours red and white,
Whose harmony it was to her delight;

In bed at morrow sleeping as I lay,
Methought Aurora, with her crystal eyne
In at the window looked by the day,
And halsit me, with visage pale and green,
On whose hand a lark sang from the spleen,"
Awake, lovers, out of your slomering,

8

See how the lusty morrow does up spring!'

Methought fresh May before my bed upstood,
In weed9 depaint of1o many divers hue,
Sober, benign, and full of mansuetude,

In bright attire of flowers forgëd new,

Heavenly of colour, white, red, brown, and blue,
Balmëd in dew, and gilt with Phoebus' beams;
While all the house illumined of her leams.11

1 Avoid. 5 Matins.

2 Cause to sigh.
6 Hailed.

• Garments.

* Innocent.
7 Heart.
10 Painted with.

• Since.
8 Slumbering.

11 Rays.

Sluggard,' she said, ' awake anon for shame, And in my honour something thou go write: The lark hath done the merry day proclaim, To raise up lovers with comfort and delight; Yet nought increases thy courage to indite, Whose heart sometime has glad and blissful been, Songës to make under the leaves green.'

GAWAIN DOUGLAS

(OUTLINE HISTORY, § 16)

SONG IN PRAISE OF SPRING
(From Prologue to Eneid, Book XII.)

WELCOME, the Lord of Light and Lamp of Day;
Welcome, fost'rer of tender herbes green;
Welcome, quickener of flourished flowers sheen;
Welcome, support of every root and vein;
Welcome, comfort of all kind fruit and grain;
Welcome, the birdës bield1 upon the brier;
Welcome, master and ruler of the year;
Welcome, welfare of husbands2 at the ploughs;
Welcome, repairer of woodēs, trees, and boughs;
Welcome, depainter of the bloomed meads;
Welcome, the life of everything that spreads;

Welcome, storer of all kinds bestial;

Welcome be thy bright beamës, gladding all;
Welcome, celestial mirror, and espy,
Atteaching all that bountës sluggardy.3

THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD

(OUTLINE HISTORY, § 16)

HE.

Be it ryght or wrong, these men among1
On women do complayne,
Affyrmynge this, how that it is

A labour spent in vayne

To love them wele, for never a dele2
They love a man agayne:

For late a man do what he can

Theyr favour to attayne,
Yet yf a newe do them persue,
Theyr first true lover than3

Laboureth for nought, for from her thought
He is a banyshed man.'

SHE.

'I say nat nay, but that all day
It is bothe writ and sayd,

That womans faith is, as who sayth,
All utterly decayd;

But neverthelesse, ryght good wytnèsse

In this case might be layd,

That they love true, and continue:
Recorde the Not-Browne Mayde;

Which, when her love came, her to prove,
To her to make his mone,

Wolde nat depart, for in her heart

She loved but hym alone.'