'For thy trespas thow sall mak na defence,
My nobill persoun thus to vilipend;

Of thy feiris, nor thy awin negligence,

For to excuse, thow can na cause pretend;
Thairfoir thow suffer sall ane schamefull end,
And deith, sic as to tressoun is decreit,
On to the gallous harlit1 be the feit.'
'A mercie, Lord! at thy gentrice 2 I ase3:
As thow art king of beistis coronat *,
Sober thy wraith, and let thy yre ouerpas,
And mak thy mynd to mercy inclynat;
I grant offence is done to thyne estait,
Quhairfoir I worthie am to suffer deid,
Bot gif thy kinglie mercie reik' remeid3.
'In everie juge mercy and reuth suld be
As assessouris, and collaterall.
Without mercie Justice is crueltie,

As said is in the Lawis Spirituall;
Quhen rigour sittis in the tribunall,
The equitie of Law quha may sustene?
Richt few or nane, but mercie gang betwene.
Alswa ye knaw the honour triumphall

9

Of all 10 victour upon the strenth dependis
Of his conqueist, quhilk manlie in battell
Throw jeopardie of weir lang defendis.

Quhat price or loving" quhen the battell endis
Is said of him, that ouercummis ane man
Him 12 to defend quhilk nouther may nor can?
'Ane thousand myis to kill, and eke devoir,
Is lytill manheid to ane strong Lyoun;
Full lytill worschip haif ye wyn thairfoir,
To quhais strenth is na comparisoun :
It will degraid some part of your renoun,
To slay ane Mous quhilk may mak na defence,
Bot 13 askand mercie at your Excellence.

Also, it semis1 nocht your celsitude",
Quhilk usis daylie meittis delitious,
To syle your teith, or lippis, with my blude,
Quhilk to your stomok is contagious :
Unhailsum meit is of ane sairie3 Mous,
And that namelie untill ane strang Lyoun
Wont till be fed with gentill vennisoun.
'My lyfe is lytill worth, my deith is less,
Yet and I leif, I may peradventure
Supple your Hienes beand in destres;

For oft is sene, ane man of small stature
Reskewit hes ane Lord of hie honour,
Keipit that wes in point to be ouerthrawin*,
Throw misfortune. Sie cace may be your awin.'
Quhen this was said, the Lyoun his language
Paissit, and thocht according to ressoun,
And gart mercie his cruell yre asswage,
And to the Mous grantit remissioun,
Opinnit his pow, and scho on kneis fell doun,
And baith his handis unto the hevin upheld,
Cryand 'Almychtie God, mot you foryeild"!'

Quhen scho wes gone, the Lyoun held to hunt,
For he had nocht, bot levit on his pray,

And slew baith tayme and wylde, as he wes wont,
And in the cuntrie maid ane greit deray';

Till at the last, the pepill fand the way

This cruell Lyoun how that they mycht tak,
Of hempyn cordis strang nettis couth thay mak.

And in ane rod, quhair he wes wont to ryn,
With raipis rude fra tre to tre it band:
Syne kest ane range on raw the wod within,
With hornis blast, and kennettis fast calland :
The Lyoun fled, and throw the rone rynnand,

10

sorry.

5 appeased.

4 that was

* Almighty

i. e. they drove the wood.

Fell in the nett, and hankit1 fute and heid,
For all his strenth he couth mak na remeid,
Welterand about with hiddeous rummissing?,

Quhyles to, quhyles fra, gif he mycht succour get;
Bot all in vane, it vailyeit him na thing,

The mair he flang3, the safter wes the net;

The raipis rude wes sa about him plet*,
On everilk syde, that succour saw he none,
Bot still lyand, and murnand maid his mone.
'O lamit Lyoun! liggand heir sa law,

Quhair is the mycht of magnificence?

Of quhome all brutall beistes in eird stude aw,
And dreid to luke upon thy excellence!

6

But hoip or help, but succour or defence,
In bandis strang heir mon I ly, allace!

Till I be slane-I see nane uther grace.
'Thair is na wy' that will my harmis wreck,
Nor creature do confort to my croun;

Quha sall me bute? quha sall my bandis brek?
Quha sall me put fra pane of this presoun ?'-
Be he had mide this lamentatioun,

Throw aventure 10 the lytill Mous come neir,
And of the Lyoun hard the pietuous beir 11.
And suddandlie it come in till hir mynd

12

That it suld be the Lyoun did hir grace,
And said, 'Now ever I fals, and richt unkynd,
But gif I quit sum part of thy gentrace
Thow did to me:' and on this way scho gais
To hir fellowis, and on thame fast can cry,
'Cum help, cum help;' and they come all in hy 13.
'Lo!' quod the Mous, this is the samin Lyoun

That grantit grace to me quhen I wes tane;

And now is fast heir bundin in presoun,

13

Brekand his heart, with sair murning and mane;
Bot we him help of succour wait 14 he nane ;

Cum help to quyte ane gude turne for ane uther;
Go, louse him sone;'-and they said, 'Yea, gude brother.'

They tuke na knyfe, their teith wes scharp aneuch :
To se that sicht, forsuith it wes greit wonder,
How that thay ran amang the raipis teuch

Befoir, behind, sum yeild1 about, sum under,
And schuir the raipis of the nett in schunder;
Syne bad him ryse, and he start up anone,
And thankit thame, syne on his way is gone.

WILLIAM DUNBAR.

[Born 145-, died 1513 (?).]

M. TAINE, in his History of English Literature, leaps from Chaucer to Surrey with the remark, 'Must we quote all these good people who speak without having anything to say?.. dozens of translators, importing the poverties of French poetry, rhyming chroniclers, most commonplace of men.' Of this period he mentions only and merely names Gower and Lydgate and Skelton. The more genuine successors of Chaucer were the Scotch poets, who, almost alone in our island, lit up the dusk of the 15th century with some flashes of native power. Neither James I nor Henryson was commonplace, and Dunbar, the most conspicuous of the group, displays in his best work a distinct original genius.

William Dunbar was born, probably in East Lothian, between 1450 and 1460. He entered the University of St. Andrews in 1475, and took his full degree in 1479. In early life, according to his own account, he went about from Berwick to Dover, and passed over to Calais and Picardy, preaching and alms-gathering as a Franciscan noviciate; but he became dissatisfied with this life and does not seem to have taken the vows of the order. It has been inferred from allusions in his verse that he was for some years employed in connection with foreign embassies. Toward the close of the century we find him in attendance on the Scotch Court, a poet with an established reputation, and a continual suitor for place. In 1500 he received from the king (James IV) a pension of £10, raised by degrees, during the next ten years to L80-then a respectable annuity: but he never obtained the Church promotion, to which on somewhat irrelevant grounds he constantly laid claim.

Dunbar revisited England in 1501, when the king's marriage with the Princess Margaret was being negotiated. The Thistle and the Rose in commemoration of that event was composed on the 9th of May, 1503. The Golden Targe and the Lament for the