The just and true man complaineth that flattery and falsehood is more regarded than truth, and rejoiceth that he is hated for the truth.

Ir truth may take no trusty hold,
Nor cleave so fast as flattering sense,
Well may thy heart, poor man, be cold!
For then is gone all sure defence.

If meaning well may take no place,
Nor dealing just have no regard,
Thou must devise another space

To feign such things as may be heard.

Shall virtue dwell in such disdain ?

And honesty be had in hate?
Then must we learn to glose, and feign,
Or else remain in vile estate.

But if there be none other

way

To purchase favour and good-will,

Better it were, I dare well say,

In vile estate to tarry still.

Yet if wisdom were nobleness,

As noble birth and riches is,
Then should not truth be in distress,
And flattery should of favour miss.

"Blam'd but not sham'd," the proverb is, And truth can have none other wrong: So may they hap their mark to miss,

That think themselves in falsehood strong.

Then hated, lo, I must rejoice,

And fond-regard despise as vain:
Closing my mouth, stopping my voice
From speech in presence of disdain.

A DITTY,

To be sung of musicians in the morning, at their lord or master's chamber door, or elsewhere of him to be heard.

THE dawning day begins to glare,

And Lucifer doth shine on high,
And saith that Phoebus doth prepare
To shew himself immediately.

And the most dark tenébrous night

Is fain to flee and turn her back, Which can in no wise hide the light, But bears away her mantle black.

Wherefore, in time let us arise,
And slothfulness do clean away;
Doing some godly exercise,

As servants true, while it is day.

Let us in no wise time abuse,

Which is God's creature excellent;

All slothful sleep let us refuse,

To virtuous works let us be bent.

1

ALEXANDER SCOT.

This author," the Anacreon of old Scotish poetry," says Mr. Pinkerton," began to write about 1550. His pieces

66

46

are very correct and elegant for the age; and almost all amatory. From p. 192 to 211 of lord Hailes's collection are seven of this poet's pieces; and in the Bannatyne MS. "are seventeen more unpublished. He stands at the head "of the ancient minor poets of Scotland."

Lament when his wife left him.

To love unlov'd it is a pain;

For she that is my sovereign,

Some wanton man so high has set her,

That I can get no love again,

But break my heart, and nought the better.

When that I went with that sweet may

To dance, to sing, to sport, and play,
And oft-times in my armis plet1 her-

I do now mourn both night and day,

And break my heart, and nought the better.

& Folded.

Where I was wont to see her go,

Right timely passand to and fro,

With comely smiles when that I met herAnd now I live in pain and wo,

And break my heart, and nought the better.

Whatane ane glaikit * fool am I
To slay myself with melancholy,

Sen weill I ken I may not get her?

Or what should be the cause, and why,

To break my heart, and nought the better?

My heart, sen thou may not her please,
Adieu! as good love comes as gais ;

2

Go choose another, and forget her!

God give him dolour and disease,

That breaks [his] heart, and nought the better.

Of womankind.

I MUSE and marvel in my mind,
What way to write or put in verse
The quaint counsels of womankind,
Or half their havings to rehearse :
• Goes.

What a silly fool.