Or there be other people, manners, laws, Than them he finds within the roaring waves;

That sweeter flow'rs do spring than grow
on rocks,

Or beasts be which excel the scaly flocks;
That other elements be to be found,
Than is the water, and this ball of ground.
But think that man from those abysms
were brought,

To leave this loathsome jail of care and pain,

But thou who vulgar footsteps dost not trace,

Learn to raise up thy mind unto this place,
And what earth-creeping mortals most
affect,

If not at all to scorn, yet to neglect:
O chase not shadows vain, which, when
obtain'd,

gain'd.

And saw what curious nature here hath Were better lost, than with such travail wrought, Did see the meads, the tall and shady Think that on earth, which humans greatwoods, ness call, The hills did see, the clear and ambling Is but a glorious title to live thrall; floods; That sceptres, diadems, and chairs of state The diverse shapes of beasts which kinds Not in themselves, but to small minds are forth bring,

great;

The feathered troops, that fly and sweetly How those who loftiest mount do hardest

sing;

Did see the palaces, the cities fair,

The form of human life, the fire, the air, The brightness of the sun that dims his sight,

The moon, the ghastly splendours of the night:

What uncouth rapture would his mind surprise!

light,

And deepest falls be from the highest
height;

How fame an echo is, how all renown
Like to a blasted rose, ere night falls

down;

And though it something were, think how this round

dust,

Is but a little point, which doth it bound. How would he his late dear resort de- O leave that love which reacheth but to spise ! How would he muse how foolish he had And in that love eternal only trust, been And beauty, which, when once it is possest To think nought be, but what he there Can only fill the soul, and make it blest. Pale envy, jealous emulations, fears, Sighs, plaints, remorse, here have no

had seen!

Why did we get this high and vast desire,
Unto immortal things still to aspire?
Why doth our mind extend it beyond
time,

And to that highest happiness even climb,
If we be nought but what to sense we seem,
And dust, as most of wordlings us esteem?
We be not made for earth, though here

we come,

More than the embryon for the mother's womb;

It weeps to be made free, and we complain

place, nor tears,

False joys, vain hopes, here be not hate nor wrath;

What ends all love, here most augments
it, death.

If such force had the dim glance of an eye,
Which some few days thereafter was to die,
That it could make thee leave all other
things,

And like the taper-fly there burn thy
wings:

The wonted rays I knew, and thrice essay'd Then discords hoarse were earth's entic- To answer make, thrice falt'ring tongue ing sounds,

This great and burning glass that clears Who gilding with his rays each hill and

In Heaven's great volume, gorgeously Dear wood, and you, sweet solitary place,

Be tongues, which still thus cry unto your What snaky eye grown jealous of my peace,

Now from your silent horrors would me

When sun, progressing in his glorious race From fading things, fond wights, lift your Beyond the Twins, doth near our pole desire,

FRANCIS SEMPLE.

1605 (?)-1680 (?)

FRANCIS SEMPLE is the third in THE BLYTHSOME BRIDAL. succession of a family of Renfrewshire

I.

lairds, the Semples of Beltrees, as they Fy, let us a' to the bridal,
are collectively known, who cultivated
Scottish poetry of a humorous vein.

The first was Sir James Semple, the
author of the "Packman's Paternoster,"
a satire on Popery. His son, Robert
Semple, revised and enlarged his
father's poem, and also wrote the
well-known "Elegy on the Piper of
Kilbarchan." Francis, the son of Robert,
is perhaps the most lively humourist of
the three. His "Blythsome Brydal"
and "Maggie Lauder" are nowhere
surpassed for that thoroughly Scottish
combination of description, narrative,
dialogue, comic suggestiveness, and
natural simplicity, which go to the
formation of that difficult to define com-
pound known as Scottish humour.
The latter is to be found in almost every
collection of Scottish songs. Little is
known of his history, and the tenor of
it is that he was a Jacobite, and not very
prosperous in life.

His claim to the authorship of the poems here placed to his credit is not an undisputed one, yet the rival claims have few supporters. There existed an earlier poet of the name of Semple, who wrote a poem entitled "The Siege of Edinburgh," but whether he was related to the Semples of Beltrees, or what he was, has not been ascertained.

For there will be lilting there;
For Jock's to be married to Maggie,
The lass wi' the gowden hair.
And there will be langkail and parridge,
And bannocks o' barleymeal;
And there will be good saut herring,
To relish a cog o' good ale.

II.

And there will be Sawney the sutor,

And Will wi' the meikle mou';
And there will be Tam the blutter,

With Andrew the tinkler, I trow;
And there will be bow-legged Robie,

With thumbless Katy's goodman ;
And there will be blue-cheeked Dobie,
And Laurie, the laird o' the land.

III.

And there will be sow-libber Patie,
Capper-nosed Francie and Gibbie,
And plooky-fac'd Wat i' the mill,

That wins in the how of the hill:
And there will be Alaster Sibbie
Wha in wi' black Bessie did mool,
Wi' snivelling Lilly, and Tibby,

The lass that stands aft on the stool.

IV.

And Madge that was buckled to Steenie,
And coft him gray breeks to his a-
Who after was hangit for stealing-

Great mercy it happened na warse!
And there will be gleed Geordy Janners,
And Kirsh wi' the lily-white leg,
Wha gade to the south for manners,

And danced the daft dance in Mons

Meg