Thus far all was fair: but the furious hatred of Popery led them to employ their rhymes in a still more licentious manner. It is a received tradition in Scotland, that at the time of the Reformation, ridiculous and obscene songs were composed to be sung by the rabble to the tunes of the most favourite hymns in the Latin service. "Green sleeves and pudding pies" (designed to ridicule the popish clergy) is said to have been one of these metamorphosed hymns: "Maggy Lauder" was another: "John Anderson my jo" was a third. The original music of all these burlesque sonnets was very fine. To give a specimen of their manner, we have inserted one of the least offensive. The reader will pardon the meanness of the composition for the sake of the anecdote, which strongly marks the spirit of the times.

In the present edition this song is much improved by some new readings communicated by a friend; who thinks by the "Seven Bairns," in st. 2d are meant the Seven Sacraments; five of which were the spurious offspring of Mother Church: as the first stanza contains a satirical allusion to the luxury of the popish clergy.

The adaption of solemn church music to these ludicrous pieces, and the jumble of ideas thereby occasioned, will account for the following fact. From the Records of the General Assembly in Scotland, called, "The Book of the Universal Kirk," p. 90, 7th July, 1568, it appears, that Thomas Bassendyne, printer in Edinburgh, printed "a psalme buik, in the end whereof was found printit ane baudy sang, called, 'Welcome Fortunes.' "1

WOMAN

JOHN Anderson my jo, cum in as ze gae by,
And ze sall get a sheips heid weel baken in a pye ;
Weel baken in a pye, and the haggis in a pat;
John Anderson my jo, cum in, and ze's get that.

MAN

And how doe ze, Cummer? and howe hae ze threven?
And how mony bairns hae ze? WOм. Cummer, I hae

seven,

MAN. Are they to zour awin gude man?

Cummer, na ;

For five of tham were gotten, quhan he was awa'.

WOм. Na,

III. LITTLE JOHN NOBODY

We have here a witty libel on the Reformation under King Edward VI. written about the year 1550, and preserved in the Pepys Collection, British Museum, and Strype's Memoirs of Cranmer. The author artfully declines entering into the merits of the cause, and wholly reflects

1 See also Biograph. Britan. 1st edit., vol. i. p. 177.

on the lives and actions of many of the Reformed. It is so easy to find flaws and imperfections in the conduct of men, even the best of them, and still easier to make general exclamations about the profligacy of the present times, that no great point is gained by arguments of that sort, unless the author could have proved that the principles of the Reformed Religion had a natural tendency to produce a corruption of manners; whereas he indirectly owns, that their Reverend Father [Archbishop Cranmer] had used the most proper means to stem the torrent, by giving the people access to the scriptures, by teaching them to pray with understanding, and by publishing homilies, and other religious tracts. It must however be acknowledged, that our libeller had at that time sufficient room for just satire. For under the banners of the Reformed had inlisted themselves, many concealed papists, who had private ends to gratify; many that were of no religion; many greedy courtiers, who thirsted after the possessions of the church; and many dissolute persons, who wanted to be exempt from all ecclesiastical censures: and as these men were loudest of all others in their cries for Reformation, so in effect none obstructed the regular progress of it so much, or by their vicious lives brought vexation and shame more on the truly venerable and pious Reformers.

The reader will remark the fondness of our satirist for alliteration: in this he was guilty of no affectation or singularity; his versification is that of Pierce Plowman's Visions, in which a recurrence of similar letters is essential: to this he has only superadded rhyme, which in his time began to be the general practice. See an Essay on this very peculiar kind of metre, prefixed to Book iii. Series II.

IN december, when the dayes draw to be short,

After november, when the nights wax noysome and long; As I past by a place privily at a port,

I saw one sit by himself making a song:

His last talk of trifles, who told with his tongue
That few were fast i' th' faith. I 'freyned '2 that freake,
Whether he wanted wit, or some had done him wrong.

He said, he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake. John Nobody, quoth I, what news? thou soon note and tell What maner men thou meane, thou art so mad.

He said, These gay gallants, that wil construe the gospel, As Solomon the sage, with semblance full sad;

To discusse divinity they nought adread;

More meet it were for them to milk kye at a fleyke.

Thou lyest, quoth I, thou losel, like a leud lad.

He said he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake.

Its meet for every man on this matter to talk,
And the glorious gospel ghostly to have in mind;
It is sothe said, that sect but much unseemly skalk,
As boyes babble in books, that in scripture are blind:
1 Perhaps "He left talk."
2 "Feyned." MSS. and PC.

Yet to their fancy soon a cause will find;
As to live in lust, in lechery to leyke:
Such caitives count to become of Cains kind;1
But that I, little John Nobody durst not speake.

For our reverend father hath set forth an order,
Our service to be said in our seignours tongue;
As Solomon the sage set forth the scripture;
Our suffrages, and services, with many a sweet song,
With homilies, and godly books us among,
That no stiff, stubborn stomacks we should freyke:
But wretches nere worse to do poor men wrong;
But that I little John Nobody dare not speake.

For bribery was never so great, since born was our Lord,
And whoredom was never les hated, sith Christ harrowed

hel,

And poor men are so sore punished commonly through the world,

That it would grieve any one, that good is, to hear tel.
For al the homilies and good books, yet their hearts be so

quel,

That if a man do amisse, with mischiefe they wil him

wreake;

The fashion of these new fellows it is so vile and fell:
But that I little John Nobody dare not speake.

Thus to live after their lust, that life would they have,
And in lechery to leyke al their long life;

For al the preaching of Paul, yet many a proud knave
Wil move mischiefe in their mind both to maid and wife
To bring them in advoutry, or else they wil strife,

And in brawling about baudery, Gods commandments

breake:

But of these frantic il fellowes, few of them do thrife ;
Though I little John Nobody dare not speake.

If thou company with them, they will currishly carp, and

not care

According to their foolish fantacy; but fast wil they naught: Prayer with them is but prating; therefore they it forbear: Both almes deeds, and holiness, they hate it in their thought:

1 So in Pierce the Plowman's creed, the proud friars are said to be

Of Caymes kind." Vid. Sig. C ij b.

Therefore pray we to that prince, that with his bloud us

bought,

That he wil mend that is amiss: for many a manful

freyke

Is sorry for these sects, though they say little or nought; And that I little John Nobody dare not once speake.

Thus in No place, this NOBODY, in No time I met,

Where NO man, 'ne 'l NOUGHT was, nor NOTHING did appear;

Through the sound of a synagogue for sorrow I swet,

That Aeolus '2 through the eccho did cause me to hear.
Then I drew me down into a dale, whereas the dumb deer
Did shiver for a shower; but I shunted from a freyke:
For I would no wight in this world wist who I were,
But little John Nobody, that dare not once speake.

IV. QUEEN ELIZABETH'S VERSES, WHILE PRISONER AT WOODSTOCK,

WRIT WITH CHARCOAL ON A SHUTTER

These verses are preserved by Hentzner, in that part of his Travels, which has been reprinted in so elegant a manner at Strawberry-Hill. In Hentzner's book they were wretchedly corrupted, but are here given as amended by his ingenious editor. The old orthography, and one or two ancient readings of Hentzner's copy are here restored.

OH, Fortune! how thy restlesse wavering state
Hath fraught with cares my troubled witt!
Witnes this present prisonn, wither fate

Could beare3 me, and the joys I quit.

Thus causedst the guiltie to be losed

From bandes, wherein are innocents inclosed:
Causing the guiltles to be straite reserved,

And freeing those that death hath well deserved.
But by her envie can be nothing wroughte,

So God send to my foes all they have thoughte.
ELIZABETHE, PRISONNER.

A.D. MDLV.

1 "Then." MSS. and PC.

2 "Hercules." MSS. and PC.

"Could beare," is an ancient idiom, equivalent to Did bear or Hath borne. See below the Beggar of Bednal Green, ver. 57.

"Could say.'

"

V. THE HEIR OF LINNE

The original of this ballad is found in the Editor's folio manuscript, the breaches and defects in which, rendered the insertion of supplemental stanzas necessary. These it is hoped the reader will pardon, as indeed the completion of the story was suggested by a modern ballad on a similar subject.

From the Scottish phrases here and there discernable in this poem, it should seem to have been originally composed beyond the Tweed. The Heir of Linne appears not to have been a Lord of Parliament, but a Laird, whose title went along with his estate.

PART THE FIRST

LITHE and listen, gentlemen,
To sing a song I will beginne :
It is of a lord of faire Scotland,
Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.
His father was a right good lord,
His mother a lady of high degree;
But they, alas! were dead, him froe,
And he lov'd keeping companie.
To spend the daye with merry cheare,
To drinke and revell every night,
To card and dice from eve to morne,
It was, I ween, his hearts delighte.
To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,

To alwaye spend and never spare,
I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,
Of gold and fee he mote be bare.
Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne

Till all his gold is gone and spent ;
And he maun sell his landes so broad,
His house, and landes, and all his rent.

His father had a keen stewàrde,

And John o' the Scales was called hee:
But John is become a gentel-man,

And John has gott both gold and fee.

Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
Let nought disturb thy merry cheere;
Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad,
Good store of gold Ile give thee heere,