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rupted by various causes, such as tourneyis joustis, and like divertisements met with by the way in which our Knight hath always to participate.
The description of the Warldis end, is perhaps the best part of this curious little Romancc. Our original is however so very much destroyed in this place, that we have deferred till another time, giving any part or specimen of it.
This legend has a very tragical catastrophe, which is not generally the case in others of a like nature. It appears that the adventurous knight, having by some means or other succeeded in delivering the damsel from her thirldom dern, in a cave belonging to the Reid Woulff at the
Warldis allutermaist methe,
Fornentis, the well of dule and dethe, proceeds in quest of further perils, accompanied by his fair prize, and the worthy Squyer aforesaid. After infinite travel, they come into a strange country, of a very unpromising aspect, and in which they had not advanced far, till they are attacked by a discourteous “ Geaunt grit as tre," who, captivated by the
Ladyeis mervailous phisnomie
Of beautie rare and courtisie bethinks him to make a seizure, without much ado. In this his Giantship is miserably deceived, for Schir Gormalyn being a genuine imp of Chivalrie, is not to be subdued or terrified by menace or blow, and accordingly a very furious duel is fought betwixt them. After various " felloun strakis” given and received on both sides, the giant is brought to the ground, with a tremendous shock. But strange to tell, while in the act of falling, he catches hold of the knight's steed by some of its furniture, and horse and man and all together tumble to the ground. In the affray, the bead of the Red Woulff, which it seems had been suspended somewhere about the horse's neck, became disengaged, and falls beside the recumbent giant, who though weak and exhausted by his late exertion, seizes the fatal skull, and hurts it right in the face of the knight. It unfortunately hits him on the cheek, and the ventale of his helmet being up, one of the Wolf's teeth " lang, crukit and of yellow hue on grene," makes a deep incision, and the same being suffused with a mortal poison, which the wolf had been accustomed to imbibe from the black waters of the well of “ Dule and Deid" the wound proves fatal; for the knight shortly afterwards dies in the arms of the
maid he had rescued, and who having fallen in love with hine for his courage, good services, and noble demeanour, becomes distracted at his loss-composes a Lai Mortel, and at last, in a fine heroical style, expires by his side. And with this, the whole in a great measure concludes.
More particulars respecting this metrical Romance, with some conjectures, touching its age and author, and as many more of its' verses as can be deciphered, will appear in the * Bowpenfou of guidiie Conceitis, or Kagment of Rosie Rondellis and plegant meteris," to be published in the be. ginning of next year.
Here followis ane litill Cang clepit “Com hidder, com hidder, & let us woo."
Twa gentil birdis sat on ane tre,
Com hidder, com hidder, mi bonnie dow, .
Com hither, bot nae delay com hither,
The sun rase hie in the purpour east,
Com hidder, com hidder, &c.
Syne gaed thir birdis sua traist and free,
Com bidder, com hidder, &c. An account of this old song will be found in the publication referred to, in the note to the foregoing. In the meantime, we think it is one of the songs mentioned by Gawin Douglass, in his “ Prolouge to the XII. Booke of Eneados." Edin. 1700, p. 404.
ANE EPISTLE DIRECTED FROM THE HOLY HEREMITE OF
ALLAREIT, TO HIS BRETHREN THE GRAYE FRERS.
I Thomas, hermite of Lareit,
Lurkand in hoils lyke trator toddis,
As beefe, meale, butter, and cheese,
Be Thomas your bruther at command,
Alex Cunninghame, Earl of Glencairn.
THE SOLSEQUIUM; OR, THE LOVER COMPAIRING HIMSELF TO A SUN-FLOWER Lyk as the dum Solsequium with cair awrecum Dois sorrow, quhen the sun gois out of sight, Hings doun his heid, and droupis as deid, and will not spreid, But lukis his levis throw langour all the nicht, Til fulisch Phaeton aryse with quhip in hand To purge the christal skyis, and licht the land. Birds in thair bower wait on that hour, And to thair King ane glade gude-morrow gives, Frae than that flowir lists not to lour, But laughs on Phebus lowsing out his levis. Swa stands with me, except I be quhair I may se My lamp of licht, my lady and my luve, Frae scho depairts, a thousand dairts in sindrie airts Thirle thruch my heavy heart, bot rest or ruve. My countenance declairs my inward grief, And houp almaist dispairs to find relief. I die, I dwyne, play dois me pyne, . I loth on every thing I luke, allace! Till Titan myne upon me schyne, That I revive thruch favour of hir face. Frae scho appeir into hir sphere, begins to cleir The dawing of my lang desyrit day. Then courage cryis on houp to ryse quhen he espyis The noysum nicht of absens went away; No noyis, frae I awalke, can me impesche, But ou my staitly stalk I flurische fresche, I spring, I sprout, my leivis ly out, My collour changis in ane hairtsum hew;