the subject, said of Elizabeth's calling for music at such a time, that "she meant to die as cheerfully as she had lived." In an English sense that might be true, for the best cheer is nearest God.

lived, and Theame of Sorrow being dead. To which is added the true manner of her Emperiall Funerall. After which foloweth the Shepheard's Spring-song, for entertainment of King James our most potent Soveraigne. Dedicated to all that loved the deceased Queene, and honor the living King."

In a dialogue between Colin and Thenot, of prose opened with a little verse, the good deeds of Elizabeth were recalled, and the words were recalled also of a Colin (Spenser), who was "cunning and excellent indeed," on the sudden forgetting of a liberal Mecænas.

in a winter storm, his latter days were thus described in Peacham's "Garden of Heroical Devices:"

"Here Philomel in silence sits alone

In depth of winter on the baréd briar,
Whereon the rose had once her beauty shown
Which lords and ladies did so much desire.
But fruitless now, in winter's frost and snow,
It doth despised and unregarded grow.

"So since, old friend, thy years have made thee white,
And thou for others hast consumed thy spring,
How few regard thee, whom thou didst delight,
And far and near came once to hear thee sing!
Ungrateful times, and worthless age of ours,
That lets us pine when it hath cropt our flowers."

Let me here commend most heartily a work planned to add echoes of the music of our forefathers to the pleasures of a modern English home, Mr. W. Chappell's two volumes of "Popular Music of the Olden Time; a collection of Ancient Songs, Ballads, and Dance Tunes illustrative of the National Music of England." Music and words of old popular airs are here given in chronological order, set in a short narrative that tells the chief facts of their history.

1 Samuel Daniel, the reference being to his poem on "The Civil Wars between the Two Houses of Lancaster and York."

2 William Warner, an attorney, who had published, in 1586,"Albion's England" in thirteen books, and added two more books in 1606. Of this work account will be taken among the longer poems.

3 George Chapman, who finished Marlowe's version of the "Hero and Leander " from Musæus.

Ben Jonson, to whom the name of Horace was given, from his use of Horace in "The Poetaster" as the type of a true pret. In the retort upon his "Poetaster," the "Satiro-mastix," he was ed Horace junior.

Nor doth the silver-tonguéd Melicert1

Drop from his honied muse one sable tear To mourn her death that gracéd his desert And to his lays opened her royal ear. Shepherd, remember our Elizabeth,

And sing her rape done by that Tarquin, Death.

No less do thou, sweet singer, Corydon,2

The theme exceeding Edward's Isabel, Forget her not in Poly-Olbion;

Make some amends, I know thou loved' st her well. 40 Think 'twas a fault to have thy verses seen Praising the King ere they had mourned the Queen.

And thou delicious, sportive Musidore,3

Although thou have resign'd thy wreath of Bay,
With Cypress bind thy temples, and deplore
Eliza's winter in a mournful lay:

I know thou can'st, and none can better, sing
Hearse songs for her and Pæans to our King.

Quick Antihorace, though I place thee here
Together with young Melibee thy friend,"
And Hero's last Musæus, all three dear,

All such whose virtues highly I commend :
Prove not ingrate to her that many a time

Hath stooped her Majesty to grace your rime.

And thou that scarce hast fledg'd thine infant Muse-
I use thine own word and commend thee best

In thy proclaiming fames: the rest misuse
The name of Poetry with lines unblest;
Holding the Muses to be masculine,

I quote no such absurdity in thine.

Thee do I thank for will; thy work let pass: But wish some of the former had first writ,

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With singing throughout all the land, the growth of a popular ballad literature became rapid in the reign of James I. "The Children in the Wood" some have fancied to be a story as old as the days of Richard III., contrived against Richard's dealing with his nephews. But the earliest indication of its existence dates from an entry in the Registers of the Stationers' Company made on the 15th of October, 1595, when Thomas Millington entered for his copy, under the hands of both the Wardens, a ballad intituled "The Norfolk Gentleman, his Will and Testament, and howe he commytted the keeping of his children to his owne brother, whoe delte moste wickedly with them, and howe God plagued him for it." This must be the original of the old English ballad, though we have no copy of it so early in date.

Now ponder well, you parents dear,

These words which I shall write;

A doleful story you shall hear,
In time brought forth to light.

1 Shakespeare, as shown by the reference in the last line of the stanza to his "Rape of Lucrece," first published in 1594.

Michael Drayton, then at work on his poetical description of England, "The Poly-olbion," published in James's reign.

* Probably Thomas Lodge, who had "resigned the bay," by giving his whole time to his practice as a physician.

Dekker and Marston, the satirists of Ben Jonson-Horace junior -in "Satiro-mastix."

s Hero's last Museus. Henry Petowe, who, in 1598, published a "Second Part of Hero and Leander," intended, like George Chapman's, for a completion of Marlowe's poem.

A gentleman of good account

In Norfolk dwelt of late, Who did in honour far surmount Most men of his estate.

Addison endeavoured to explain to readers of Queen Anne's time his enjoyment of the ballad of "The Children in the Wood," in a paper of which one half was covert apology to propitiate readers of the self-satisfied French-classical age, and the other half was the following piece of criticism. I give it as first published. Addison flinched slightly from ridicule, and modified a passage or two when revising for the publication of "The Spectator" in volumes. The criticism is here given as it was published on the 7th of June, 1711. "This song is a plain simple copy of nature, destitute of the helps and ornaments of art. The tale of it is a pretty tragical story, and pleases for no other reason but because it is a copy of nature. There is even

a despicable simplicity in the verse; and yet because the sentiments appear genuine and unaffected, they are able to move the mind of the most polite reader with inward meltings of humanity and compassion. The incidents grow out of the subject, and are such as Virgil himself would have touched upon, had the like story been told by that divine poet. For which reason the whole narration has something in it very moving, notwithstanding the author of it (whoever he was) has deliver'd it in such an abject phrase and poorness of expression, that the quoting any part of it would look like a design of turning it into ridicule. But though the language is mean, the thoughts from one end to the other are wonderfully natural, and therefore cannot fail to please those who are not judges of language, or those who, notwithstanding they are judges of language, have a genuine and unprejudiced taste of nature. The condition, speech, and behaviour of the dying parents, with the age, innocence, and distress of the children, are set forth in such tender circumstances, that it is impossible for a good-natured reader not to be affected with them. As for the circumstance of the robin-red-breast, it is indeed a little poetical ornament; and to shew what a genius the author was master of amidst all his simplicity, it is just the same kind of fiction which one of the greatest of the Latin poets has made use of upon a parallel occasion; I mean that passage in Horace, where he describes himself when he was a child, fallen asleep in a desert wood, and covered with leaves by the turtles that took pity on him.

'Me fabulosa vulture in Apulo, Altricis extra limen Apuliæ, Ludo fatigatumque somno Fronde novâ puerum palumbes Texere

I have heard that the late Lord Dorset, who had the greatest wit

temper'd with the greatest humanity, and was one of the finest critics as well as the best poets of his age, had a numerous collection of old English ballads, and took a particular pleasure in the reading of them I can affirm the same of Mr. Dryden, and know several of the most refined writers of our present age who are of the same humour I might likewise refer my reader to Moliere's thoughts on this subject, as he has expressed them in the character of the misanthrope but those only who are endowed with a true greatness of soul and genius can divest themselves of the little images of ridicule, an admire Nature in her simplicity and nakedness. As for the little con ceited wits of the age, who can only shew their judgment by finder fault, they cannot be supposed to admire these productions that have nothing to recommend them but the beauties of nature, when they not know how to relish even those compositions that, with all the beauties of nature, have also the additional advantages of ar The ornaments here used for illustration of "The Children in the Wood" are portions of two very beautiful examples of Renaissan decoration, figured by Friedrich Arnold in his unfinished work De Renaissance."

So that the pretty speech they had
Made Murder's heart relent;
And they that undertook the deed
Full sore did now repent.
Yet one of them, more hard of heart,

Did vow to do his charge,

Because the wretch that hired him

Had paid him very large.

The other won't agree thereto,
So here they fall to strife;
With one another they did fight
About the children's life:
And he that was of mildest mood
Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood;
The babes did quake for fear!

He took the children by the hand,

Tears standing in their eye,

And bade them straightway follow him,

And now at last this wicked act

Did by this means come out.

The fellow that did take in hand These children for to kill, Was for a robbery judged to die, Such was God's blessed will: Who did confess the very truth, As here hath been display'd; The uncle having died in jail, Where he for debt was laid. You that executors be made, And overseers eke, Of children that be fatherless, And infants mild and meek, Take you example by this thing, And yield to each his right, Lest God with such-like misery Your wicked minds requite.

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THE WIFE OF AUCHTERMUCHTY.

I.

In Auchtermuchty there dwelt ane man,
An husband, as I heard it tauld,
Quha2 weil could tipple out a can,
And naither luvit hunger nor cauld.

1 Auchtermuchty is a royal burgh, eight miles from Cupar, Fife. Quha, who; quhill, while, formerly; quhill anis (line 5), once

Quhill anis it fell upon a day

He yokit his pleuch upon the plain,
Gif it be true, as I heard say,
The day was foul for wind and rain.

upon a time (in stanzas viii. and ix. quhill is till); quhen (line 11), when; quhair (line 17), where. The Scottish combination quh, representing a strong guttural sound, is equivalent to First-English hw, modern English wh. There have been various theories as to the origin of this use of quh to represent a guttural aspirate more marked than the wh of Southern English, and it has been thought to represent a sound analogous to that indicated in Moso-gothic by a peculiar character, an O, with a point in the centre. There is obvious analogy of "quha" and "quham" with Latin "quis" and "quem;" of "quhen" with Latin "quum."

1 Landia on, end of his field.

3 Tukit ben, looked in.

2 Ene, evening.

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* Beik and bauld, warm and bright. "Beik" is allied to "bake." In Scottish phrase to "bauld the glead" is to blow the fire into a glow. The wet and tired husband found his wife by a bright 1onating fire.

"Dame, you must to the plough to-morrow; I shall be housewife." "But since it is your will to know housewifery, first you must sift and then you must knead."

7 But and ben, out and in; "be-utan" and "be-innan."

• Kill, kiln.

9 Furth and till, to and fro.

Keep well the goslings from the kite."

11 Kin, churn.

13 Bledoch, buttermilk.

12 Skummed, skimmed.

14 Disjune, breakfast,

15" Thou shalt hold the plough, and I shall call."

16 Caird, drove.

Than ben there can be cal

I trow be end her lile th

For in she shot her mekl
And ay she wins und der ink:
He cleikit up an raked slett,
And thocht to hit the sw

The twa gaislings the led hai kh
That straik dang baith thair barns tha

II.

Than he bare kindling to the k
But scho stert up all in ane low;→
Quhatevir he heard. quhatevir he saw,
That day he had na will to wow.*
Than he gaed to tak up the bairnis,
Thocht to have fand them fair and clene:
The first that he gat in his armis
Was a' bedirtin to the ene.31

XII.

The first it smelt sae sappelie,

To touche the lave he did nocht greine: 'The deil cut off thair hands," quoth he, "That fill'd ye a sa fow 33 yestrene!" He trailit the fowll sheits down the gait." Thocht to have washit them on a stane; The burn was risen grit of spait, Away fra him the sheits hes tane.