That my light youth-head is opprest and Law, love, and lawtie, graven 1low they lie;

Green youth, to age thou mon2 obey and Flattery is fostered both with friends and

ANONYMOUS POETRY.

THE FRIARS OF BERWICK.

that no one would dispute that his genius was equal to its production; yet the more we consider it, the less does it seem to us to be his writing. The fact of its appearing anonymously in both the manuscripts in which most of Dunbar's poems are preserved, is perhaps the strongest external objection to his authorship; yet neither this, nor the alleged modernness of the language, would weigh much against the assumption in our estimation, did the literary structure of the composition exhibit that mastery of the art of poetry, which, without exception, marks all Dunbar's poems.

[THIS very excellent tale has been preserved, in both the Bannatyne and Maitland MSS., without any author's name in either. It has been printed so early as 1603, by Robert Charteris, Edinburgh; but the earliest edition | preserved is that of Raban of Aberdeen, 1622, of which only a single copy is known. In 1723, Allan Ramsay made a transcript of it from the Bannatyne MS., on which he founded his tale of "The Monk and the Miller's Wife," without however acknowledging his indebtedness. Pinkerton printed the Mr Fraser Tytler remarks that :Maitland Ms. version in 1786, attribut- "There are few of Chaucer's tales which ing the authorship to Dunbar; while are equal, and certainly none of them Sibbald, in 1802, reprinted Pinker- superior to this excellent piece of satire. ton's edition, collating it with the The whole management of the story, its Bannatyne MS., and ascribing the quiet comic humour, its variety and authorship to the unknown author of natural delineation of human character, the "Priests of Peebles." Dr David the freshness and brilliancy of its colourLaing printed the Bannatyne MS. ing, the excellence and playfulness of its version, in his edition of Dunbar s satire upon the hypocritical and dissoWorks, 1834, in which, on the authority | lute lives of many of the monastic orders, of Pinkerton, he places it among and the vigorous versification into which poems attributed to Dunbar. He it is thrown, are entitled to the highest remarks :—“That the Friers of Berwick | praise." Without detracting in the is a composition belonging to the commencement of the sixteenth century, and not later than the minority of James Fifth, cannot, I think, be doubted, That it affords such intrinsic evidence as might warrant an unhesitating ascription of it to Dunbar, seems much less certain. Pinkerton's reasons on this head are certainly not very conclusive."

least from Mr Tytler's estimate of the piece as a tale, and even admitting it to be superior, in that aspect of it, to anything Dunbar has written, yet we cannot see that in literary finish, and that masterly ironic ease that characterises Dunbar's analysis of character, and that penetrating insight that dissects the motives of human action with a We have said, in the life of Dunbar, skill that has seldom been equalled, the

They ate, and drank, and sat at their ain❘ "Ye bide not here, by Him that us all

And up they went, into the hallis end, Because they wist the yetts were locked Intill ane loft was made for corn and hay. She made their bed, and syne went, but 5

But she to them gave answer with great Friar Robert said, "I hecht7 to walk this

She was full blithe that they were closed She was als proud as any papingo.'
The board she covered with cloth of costly

there,

For she had made ane tryst, that samen
night,

Friar John her lovis supper for to dight.'
And she wald have nane other company;
Because Friar John all night with her should

be:

Whilk dwelland was into that samen town;
And ane black friar he was of great renown.
He governed all hail the abbacy:
Silver and gold he had abundantly;
He had ane privy postern of his awin,
That he might issue, when him list,
unknawin.

Now, thus into the town I leave him still,
Bidand his time; and turn again I will
To this fair wife, how she the fire could
beit :3

And thrusted on fat capons on the speet;
And fat cunyngs4 to the fire gan she lay,
Syne bade her maid, in all the haste she
may

Therefore I reid? now that we make good cheer.

To flawme,5 and turn, and roast them Sen it is so that Symon is frae hame,

tenderly.

And till her chalmer syne she went in hye. She pulled her mawkin, and gave her buffets tway

I will be hamely now, with you good dame." She says, "Ye are right heartily welcome here,

At any time, when that ye list appear."

Upon the cheeks, syne till her could she With that she smiled wonder lustily :

say,

Ye should be blithe and glad at my request,
Thir mullis of yours, are called to ane feast.
She cleithis? her in a kirtle of fine red;
Ane fair white curch 8 she put upon her head.
Her kirtle was of silk, her keyis gingling
syne,

He thristed her hand again right privily.
Then in het love they talked other till.
Thus at their sport I will them leaven still,
Bidand their time; and turn again I will
To tell you of thir silly friars twa,
That ligged in the loft among the straw.
Friar Allan still into the loft can ly:

Her other garments as the red gold did Friar Robert had a little jelosy;
shine.

On ilkane finger she weared ringis two :

For in his heart he had ane persaving. And through the burde he made, with his bodkin, 8