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Sempill wrote other pieces, which have not been preserved. He was a royalist, and fought on the side of Charles I.

WILLIAM CLELAND. WILLIAM CLELAND (circa 1661-1689) wrote Hudibrastic satire on the Jacobite army known as the 'Highland Host,' in 1678. He was author also of a wild, fanciful piece, 'Hallo, my Fancy. Cleland commanded the Covenanting forces, and fell in the moment of victory at Dunkeld. The poems of this gallant young officer were not published till 1697. Sir Walter Scott, in the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border,' has stated that Colonel Cleland was father of a certain Major Cleland, the friend of Pope, whose name is signed to a letter prefixed to the 'Dunciad ;' but this is an error ; the Covenanting officer was only twelve or thirteen years of age when Major Cleland was born.

The Highland Host But those who were their chief com- Had they not need of bulk and bones, manders,

Who fight with all these arms at once ? As such who bore the pirnie (1) standarts; It's marvellous how in such weather, Who led the van and drove the rear, O'er hill and moss they came together; Were right well mounted of their gear; How in such storms they came so far; With brogues, and trews, and pirnie The reason is they're smeared with tar, plaids,

Which doth defend them heel and neck, And good blue bonnets on their heads, Just as it does their sheep protect.(4). . . Which on the one side had a flipe (2) Nought like religion they retain, Adorned with a tobacco pipe;

Of moral honesty they're clean ; With dirk, and snap-work, (3) and suff- In nothing they're accounted sharp, mill,

Except in bagpipe and in harp. A bag which they with onions fil!,

For a misobliging word And, as their strict observers say,

She'll durk her neighbour o'er the board; A tass-horn filled with usquebae;

And then she'll flee like fire from flint, A slashed-cut coat beneath their plaids, She'll scarcely ward the second dint; A farge of timber, nails, and hides ; If any ask her of her thrift, With a long two-handed sword,

Foorsooth, her nainsel lives by theft. As good's the country can afford

From Hallo, my Fancy.'
When I look before me,

There I do behold
There's none that sees or knows me;
All the world's a-gadding,
Ruuning madding;

None doth his station hold.
He that is below envieth him that riseth,
And he that is above, him that's below despiseth,
So every man his plot and counter-plot deviseth.

Hallo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go?
Look, look, what bustling

Here I do espy;
Each another jostling,
Every one turmoiling,
Th' other spoiling,

As I did pass them by. 1 Having unequal threads or different colours. 2 A fold, a lap. 3 Pistol A The Highlanders at an early period wore linen shirts smeared with wax or tar.

One sitteth musing in a dumpish passion,
Another hangs his head because lie's out of fashion,
A third is fully bent on sport and recreation.

Hallo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go?
Amidst the foamy ocean,

Fain would I know
What doth cause the motion,
And returning
In its journeying,

And doth so seldom swerve!
And how these little fishes that swim beneath salt water,
Do never

their eye; methinks it is a matter
An inch above the reach of old Erra Pater !

Hallo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go?
Fain would I be resolved

How things are done;
And where the bull was calved
Of bloody Phalaris,
And where the tailor is

That works to the man i' the moon !
Fain would I know how Cupid aims so rightly ;
And how these little fairies do dauce and leap so lightly;
And where fair Cynthia makes her ambles nightly.

Hallo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go?
In conceit like Phaeton,

I'll mount Phoebus' chair,
Having ne'er a hat on,
All my hair a-burning
In my journeying,

Hurrying through the air.
Fain would I hear his fiery horses neighing,
And see how they ou foamy bits are playing ;
All the stars and planets I will be surveying!

Hallo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go? .
Hallo, my fancy, hallo,

Stay, stay at home with me;
I can thee no longer follow,
For thou hast betrayed me,
And bewrayed me;

It is too much for thee.
Stay, stay at home with me; leave off thy lofty soaring;
Stay thou at home with me, and on thy books be poring;
For he that goes abroad, lays little up in storing:
Thou 'rt welcome home, my fancy, welcoine home to me.

Some of the interesting ballads and fragrants in Scott's 'Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border' belong to this period. One of these is "Gilderoy.' (that is, the Red Lad), a Highland freebooter, who was executed in 1636. Ile wis a noted cateran or robber, but a dashing one like Captain Macheath, with roses in his shoon, silken hose, and fine garters. There is one true touch of feeling in the ballad. Allud. ing to the scene of Gilderoy's death on the scaffold, the heroine who lanuenis liis futu, siy's:

I never loved to see the face
That gazed on Gilderoy.

Another ballad entitled “Lady Ann Bothwell's Lament' is about the same date :

Balow;(1) my babe, lie still and sleep;
It grieves me sair to hear thee weep:
If thou'lt be silent, I'll be glad;

Thy mourning makes my heart full sad.
One of the finest of these poetical relics (for which, Professor
Aytoun says, there is evidence to shew that it was composed before
1566) we print entire:

Waly, Waly.(2) O waly, waly up the bank,

And shake the green leaves aff the And waly, waly down the brae,

tree ? And waly, waly by yon burnside,

O gentle death, when wilt thou come, Where I and my love were wont to gae ! For of my life I am wearie ? I lent my back uto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree;

'T is not the frost that freezes fell, But first it bowed, and syne it brak, Nor blawing snow's inclemencie; Sue my true love did lightly me.

'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,

But my love's heart grown cauld to me. O waly, waly gin my love be bonny, When we came in by Glasgow town A little time while it is new ;

We were a comely sight to see; But when it 's auld, it waxeth cauld, My love was clad i’ the black velvet,

And fades away like morning dew. And I myself in cramosie. O wherefore should I busk ny head,

Or wherefore should I kaim my hair; But had I wissed before I kissed, For my true love has me forsook,

That love had been sae ill to win, And says he'll never lo'e me mair? I had locked my heart in a case of gowd,

And pinned it wi' a siller pin. Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,

"The sheets shall ne'er be pressed by me; And set upon the nurse's knee, Saint Anton's well shall be my drink, And I myself were dead and gane,

Since my true love's forsaken me. For a maid again I'll never be. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, We should perhaps include among the poetical productions of this time the translation of the Psalnıs which is still sung in the Scottishi Presbyterian churches. A version was made in 1643 by a Puritanical versifier, FRANCIS ROUSE (1579–1659), which was revised and adopted as now in use. The fine oldeersion of the Hundredth Psalm, however, was in use, words and music, so early as 1565.



Two comedies, illustrative of city nianners in the time of Charles I. were produced by JASPER MAYNE (1601–1672). The first of these, 'The City Madam' (1639), is one of the best of our early comedies humorous, but not indelicate; the second, entitled “The Amorous

1 Balow, a lullaby; probably from the French bas, la le loup, be still, the wolf is coming.

Waly, expressive of lamentation (Ang. - Sax, wa-la, from wa, woe, and la, oh !).

War,' is a tragi-comedy, published in 1648. Mayne was a native of Devonshire, educated for the church, and afterwards archdeacon of Chichester, and chaplain in ordinary to King Charles II. He was a humorist, and has been compared even to Dean Swist,* though little remains to justify the comparison. Besides his plays, he wrote occasional poems, and translated Lucian's 'Dialogues.' The Puritans, of course, found no favour with this dramatic divine.

A Puritanical Waiting-maid.

AURELIA. Oh, Mr. Baneswright. are you come ? My woman
Was in her preaching fit; she only wanted
A table's end.

BANESWRIGHT. Why, what's the matter ?

AUR. Never
Poor lady had such unbred holiness
About her person; I am never drest
Without a sermon ; but am forced to prove
The lawfulness of curling-irons before
She'll crisp me in a morning. I must shew
Texts for the fashions of my gowns. She'll ask
Where jewels are commanded? Or what lady
I' the primitive times wore robes of pearl or rubies ?
She will urge councils for her little ruff,
Called in Northamptonshire; and her whole service
Is a mere confutation of my clothes.

BANE. Why, madam, I assure you, time hath been,
However she be otherwise, when she had
A good quick wit, and would have made to a lady
A serviceable sinner.

Aur. She can't preserve
The gift for which I took her; but as though
She were inspired from Ipswich, she will make
The acts and monuments in sweetmeats; quinces,
Arraigned and burnt at a stake; all my banquets
Are persecutions; Diocletian's days
Are brought for entertainment; and we eat martyrs.

BANE. Madam, she is far gone.
AUR. Nay, sir, she is a Puritan at her needle too.
BARE. Indeed!
AUR. She works religious petticoats; for flowers
She'll make church histories. Her needle doth
So sancify my cushionets ! Besides,
My smock-sleeves have such holy embroideries,
And are so learned, that I fear, in time,
All my apparel will be quoted by
Some pure instructor. Yesterday I went
To see a lady that has a parrot ; my woman,
While I was in discourse, converted the fowl ;
And now it can speak nought but Knox's works;
So there's a parrot lost.

* A practical joke is related of him.. One of his servants waiting upon him with attention in his last illness, was told by his master that if he would look in one of his chests, after his death, he would find something that would make him drink. The man redoubled his attentions; and after the master's death, on examining the chest, found that his legacy was a red herring !



The civil war was for a time fatal to the dramatic Muse. In 1612, the nation was convulsed with the elements of discord, and in the same month that the sword was drawn, the theatres were closed. On the 2d of September, the Long Parliament issued an ordinance, suppressing public stage-players throughout the kingdom during these calamitous times.' An infraction of this ordinance took piace in 1614, when some players were apprehended for performing Beaumont and Fletcher's 'King and no King'-an ominous title for a drama at that period. Another ordinance was issued in 1647, and it third in the following year, wlien the House of Commons appointed a provost-m::rshal for the purpose of suppressing plays and seizing ballad-singers. Parties of strolling actors occasionally performed in the country; but there were no regular theatrical performances in London, till Davenant brought out his opera, the “Siege of Rhodes,' in the year 165'). Two years afterwards, he removed to the Cockpit Theatre, Drury Lane, where he performed until the

of the Restoration. A strong partiality for the drama existed in the nation, which all the storms of the civil war, and the zeal of the Puritans, had not been able to crush or subdue. At the restoration of the monarchy, the drama was also restored, and with new lustre, though less decency. Two theatres were licensed in the metropolis, one under the direction of Sir William Davenant, whose performers were, in compliment to the Duke of York, named the Duk 's Company. The other establishment was managed by Thomas Killigrew, a well-known wit and courtier, whose company took the name of the King's Servants. Davenant effected two great improvements in theatrical representation—the regular introduction of actresses, or female players, and the use of movable scenery and appropriate decorations. Females had performed on the stage previous to the Restoration, and considerable splendour and variety of scenery had been exhibited in the court masks and revels. Neither, however, had been familiar to the public, and they now formed a great attraction to the two patent theatres. Unfortunately, these powerful auxiliaries were nut brought in aid of the good old dramas of the age of Elizabeth and James. Instead of adding grace and splendour to the creations of Shakespeare and Jonson, they were lavished to support a new and degenerate dramatic taste, whiclı Charles II had brought with him from the continent. Rhyming or heroic plays had long been fashionable in France, and were dignified by the genius of Corneille and Racine. They had little truth of colouring or natural passion, buit dealt exclusively with personages in high life and of transcendent virtue or ambition; with fierce combats and splendid processions; with superhuman love and beauty; and with long dialogues alternately formed of metaphysical su ilety and the most extravagant and bombastic expression. __ Blank verse,' says Dryden, ‘is

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