Then unto London I did me hie, Of all the land it beareth the price; "Hot peascods!" one began to cry, Strawberry ripe, and cherries in the rise!" One bade me come near and buy some spice; Pepper, and saffron they gan me beed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed. Then to the Cheap I gan me drawn, Where much people I saw for to stand; One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn, Another he taketh me by the hand, "Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land!" I never was used to such things, indeed; Then went I forth by London Stone, Drapers much cloth me offered anon; Then comes me one cried "hot sheep's feet;" One cried mackerel, rushes green, another gan greet, One bade me buy a hood to cover my head; But, for want of money, I might not be sped, Then I hied me unto East-Cheap, One cries ribs of beef, and many a pie; Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy; Yea by cock! nay by cock! some began cry; Some sung of Jenkin and Julian for their meed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed. Then into Cornhill anon I yode, Where was much stolen gear among; I saw where hung mine owne hood, That I had lost among the throng; To buy mine own hood I thought it wrong: I knew it well, as I did my creed; But, for lack of money, I could not speed. The taverner took me by the sleeve, "Sir," saith he, "will you our wine assay ?" THE MERLE AND NIGHTINGALE, BY WILLIAM DUNBAR. [WILLIAM DUNBAR was born at Saltour, in East Lothian, probably in the year 1460. After having been educated at St. Andrews, he became a Franciscan Friar. He travelled for some years as an itinerant preacher; subsisting, in accordance with the custom of his order, on alms. But he deplored the constant falsehood, deceit, and flattery, of this mode of life, and at length abandoned it. He was afterwards employed on several embassies; the servility then required in a court, however, filled him with pain. He died about the year 1520; but neither the date nor circumstances of his death are known. His works remained in manuscript until the beginning of the last century; nor were they rescued from obscurity until their language had become so obsolete that many of their beauties could no longer be appreciated.] IN May, as that Aurora did upspring, With crystal een chasing the cluddes sable, I heard a Merle with merry notis sing A sang of love, with voice right comfortable, Again' the orient beamis, amiable, Upon a blissful branch of laurel green; This was her sentence, sweet and delectable, A lusty life in Lovis service been. Under this branch ran down a river bright, Of balmy liquor, crystalline of hue, Again' the heavenly azure skyis light, With notis glad, and glorious harmony, The field been clothit in a new array; A lusty life in Lovis service been. Ne'er sweeter noise was heard with living man, Her sound went with the river as it ran, Out through the fresh and flourished lusty vale; Of every love but upon God alone. Cease, quoth the Merle, thy preaching, Nightingale : Shall folk their youth spend into holiness? Of young sanctís, grows auld feindís, but fable; Again' the law of kind, thou goes express, That crookit age makes one with youth serene, The Nightingale said, Fool, remember thee, O, whether was kythit there true love or none? He is most true and stedfast paramour, And love is lost but upon him alone. |