« السابقةمتابعة »
Than said the Angell chaist,
Elizabeth thy cousing also,
Call him Johne, sayis the Angell bricht,
The first part ends with the above hymn, and a note is added as follows:Heir endis the Spirituall Sangis, and beginnis the Psalmes of David, with other new pleasand Ballattis. Transslatit out of Enchiridion Psalmorum, to be sung.
The first stanza of the following, which most closely adhere to the old song, of which it is a parody, sufficiently indicates the character of the hymns, and the tunes to which they were sung.
Quho is at my windo? quho, quho?
So quho is at my windo, quho.
On croce cruellie. La, lay, la.
Johne, cum kis me now,
And mak no moir ado w.
That Johne dois thee call;
Be grace celestial,
Quhen that thou loist this name.
Downe be yone river I ran,
That brocht me to libertie;
And I ane sinful man.
[The air of the following is said to have been a favourite with Henry VIII. The first mention of it by a Scottish poet is by Henryson. As showing the anti-Popish spirit of the times, we give the first four stanzas.]
With huntis up, with huntis up,
It is now perfite day,
Quha lykis to speid thay may.
This lang and mony ane day, Devouring scheip, quhill he micht creip, Nane micht him schaip 3 away. It did him gude to laip the blude Of young and tender lammis; Nane culd he mis for all was his, The young anes with thair dammis.
do not enable us to say when she was born; but in the dedication to her of his Poems, in 1598, Alexander Hume gives as a reason for such dedication, "because ye delite in poesie yourselfe, and as I unfainedly confes, excelles any of your sexe in that art that ever I heard within this nation. I have seen your compositiones so copious, so pregnant, so spirituall, that I doubt not but it is the gift of God in you." As might be expected of the author of "The Godly Dream," she took an active part in the religious controversies of her day, and strongly sympathized with the Presbyterian cause in its struggles.
I loathed But," he
The first edition of "The Dream" is dated Edinburgh, 1603, but it is very likely to have been composed somewhat earlier. That it was very popular among the Presbyterians is amply shown by the number of editions which Dr Laing has quoted in his prefatory note to the edition which appears in his Early Metrical Tales, Edinburgh, 1826. This circumstance, he remarks, "might have obtained for it a more favourable regard than it has yet experienced. continues, "when writers who have treated of early Scottish poets are so ungallant as to dismiss a poem of considerable beauty and imagination, as either unworthy of a single passing remark, or as being a nonsensical religious rhapsody, which should be consigned to oblivion-surely this is to be considered either as prejudice on their part, or the want of taste and discernment, so essential in giving a just estimate of the character and genius of our poetical writers." As an exponent of the spirit that animated, and as a record
I my life, I could not eat nor drink, But mused alone, and divers things did think.
All merryness did agravate my pain,
I pressed to pray, but sighs overset me so,
The twinkling tears abundantly ran down, My heart was eased when I mourned my fill;
Then I began my lamentation,
Our love grows cold, our zeal is worn
Our faith is failed, and we are like to fall; The lion roars to catch us as his prey. Make haste, O Lord! before we perish all.
"Thir are the days that Thou sae lang foretold
Should come before this wretched world should end;
Now vice abounds, and charity grows cold, And even Thine own most strongly does
The devil prevails, his forces he does bend, Gif it could be, to wreck Thy children dear;
And said, "O Lord! how long is it Thy But we are Thine, therefore some succour
That Thy poor sancts shall be afflicted still?
Alas! how long shall subtle Sathan rage? Make haste, O Lord! Thy promise to fulfill;
Make haste to end our painful pilgrimage.
"Thy silly saints are tossèd to and fro, Awake, O Lord! why sleepest Thou sae lang?
We have nae strength agains our cruel foe, In sighs and sobs now changèd is our sang. The world prevails, our enemies are strang, The wicked rage, but we are poor and wake :'
O show Thyself! with speed revenge our wrang,
Make short thir days, even for Thy chosen's sake.
"Lord Jesus come, and save Thy own elect,
For Sathan seeks our simple souls to slay; The wicked world does strangely us infect, Most monstrous sins increases day by day:
Receive our souls, we irk to wander here.
"What can we do? we clogged are with sin,
In filthy vice our senseless souls are drowned;
Though we resolve we never can begin To mend our lives, but sin does still abound.
When will Thou come? When shall Thy trumpet sound?
When shall we see that great and glorious
O save us, Lord! out of this pit profound, And reive us from this loathsome lump of clay !
"Thou knows our hearts, thou sees our hail desire,
Our secret thoughts are not hid far frae Thee;
Though we offend, Thou knows we strongly tire
To bear this weight our spreits would fain be free.
And went to bed because I thought it Whom would thou have? In what place best :
With heaviness my spreit was sae opprest, I fell on sleep, and sae again, methought, I made my moan, and then my grief increased,
And from the Lord, with tears, I succour sought.
"Lord Jesus, come," said I, "and end my grief!
My spreit is vext, the captive would be free;
All vice abounds, O send us some relief! I loath to live, I wish dissolved to be: My spreit does long and thirsteth after Thee,
would thou be?
Faint not sae fast in thy adversity, Mourn not sae sair sen mourning may not mend ;
Lift up thy heart, declare thy grief to me, Perchance thy pain brings pleasure in the end."
I sighed again, and said, "Alas! for woe!
My sins, alas! increases more and more;
As thirsty ground requires ane shower of I long to live with my Redeemer dear."
Refrain from tears, and cast thy care aside; Trust in my strength, and in my word confide,
Ane angel bright, with visage shining And thou shall have thy heavy heart's
Countenance. 2 Dwindling away. 3 Sorrowful.