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We think that both "tales," and tunes "of other times" have their value, and acknowledge our obligations. to Mr. Jamieson for preserving some antiquities which are new to us in this collection; and for better readings of various others, or more complete and perfect copies, than we formerly possessed. As our readers may not be deeply "smit with the love of antiquarian "lore," or versed in

All such reading as was never read, we shall particularize the contents of these volumes but cursorily. The first part is tragic; and each poem of any consequence is introduced by a learned proemium, several are also followed by notes: this part contains twenty-nine subjects. The second part is humourous, and comprizes thirteen subjects; with five songs. In this division we have Lidgate's "London Lick-penny:" wherein he describes, having no money, how little he could get for love, in London. Since his days, London is greatly enlarged: but, we believe, if the old bard were to traverse the metropolis now, as formerly he did, he might meet with as many kind offers of sales, and greater variety of wares to be sold, yet he would retain the burden of his ditty,

"For lacke of money, I could not spcde." His description of the businesses then carried on in various parts of the city, differs greatly from what a modern perambulator would observe. The third division of Mr. Jamieson's work is miscellaneous; with songs, selected from both sides of the Tweed: this occupies the second volume.

There is something amusing as well as terrible in the stories of the Mer-men, who seized damsels on their native shore, and carried them to islands where they had no communication with home for many years. We know that this savage custom subsisted between Greece and Asia; and we find it equally prevalent between the shores of Scotland and Norway. Some of these, of the female sex, (mermaids) as Prophetesses rivalled Cassandra. But it appears, pretty clearly, that all Mer-men were not conjurers; for we are told that

Proud Ellen-lille, (K. Viser, p. 161) the King of leeland's daughter, was stolen away from her mother. A ship was built, and in it sails Young Roland, who lands on a green island where was a castle, in which he finds his sister. She tells him, if he had a hundred and a

thousand lives, they will all be lost when the Merinan Rosmer comes in. Young Roland hides himself in a corner.

Rosmer hame frae Zealand came,

And he took on to bann;
" I smell fro' well, by my right hand,
That here is a Christian man!"
"There flew a craw out o'er the house,
Wi' a mans leg in his mouth;

He coost it in, and I coost it out
As fast as e'er I couth."
But wilyly she can Rosmer win,
And clapping him tenderlie:
"It's here is come my sisters son,
Gin I lose him, I'll die!"
"It's here is come, my sisters son,
Frae baith our fathers land:
My lord, I've gi'en him faith and troth,
That ye will not him bann."
"And is he come, thy sisters son,
Frae thy fathers land to thee?
Then I will swear my highest aith,

He's dree nae skaith frae me."

Rosmer, accordingly, treats Roland with a kindness, which though clumsy is hearty, and Ellen obtains a reprieve for the youth by reminding Rosmer, that " he has not small fingers, to clap so little a child." After this, Ellen discovers symptoms which manifest her too great intimacy with Roland: she persuades the Merman to dismiss their visitor with a chest of gold; in this chest she secretes herself; and Rosmer carries the whole to land. Afterwards, on discovering how he had been deluded, "his tears flowed, like a stream down his cheeks" and he became whinstane gray." The basis of this story is probably true: and the Merman was nothing more than the head of a clan, or of an island, perhaps among the Orkneys, who carried off a female prize from Iceland; but she quitted him at a subsequent opportunity.

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We have sometimes been surprised at the lively strains in which the power and qualities of beer were formerly sung. The liquor must have been superior to what now bears this name, or the abilities of the poets of those days were more easily called into exercise. Rowe says, indeed,

Your ancient venerable song enditers,
Soar'd many a pitch above our modern writers;
With rough majestic force they touch'd the heart,
And strength and nature made amends for art.

Whether this be correct or not, Mr. Jamieson favours us with several copies of our old friends Sir John Barleycorn, Sir Allan a Mault, and others, to which we may safely appeal in support of our suggestion.

With capons make their errants;

And if they hap to fail of these,

Tlrat the same complaints prevailed for- | Now poor men to the justices merly, as of late, in regard to the decay of hospitality, the hardships of the times, and the extravagances practised in the upper classes of life, needs no proof to those who are familiar with our ancient chronicles: but, as merry a one as we have met with, is selected by our author; and because it describes a Christmas time, we transcribe it, for comparison with the same merry period, of the year 1806.

They plague them with their warrants:
But now they feed them with good cheer,
And what they want, they take in beer,
For Christmas comes but once a year,

A CHRISTMAS CARROL.-By George Wither.*
So now is come our joyfulst feast;
Let every man be jolly;
Each room with ivy leaves is drest,
And every post with holly.
Though some churls at our mirth repine,
Round your foreheads garlands twine;
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine

And let us all be merry.
Now all our neighbours chimnies smoke,
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with bak'd meat choke,
And all their spits are turning.

Without the door let sorrow lye;
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury't in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry.
Now every lad is wond'rous trim,
And no man minds his labour;

Our lasses have provided them
A bag-pipe and a tabor;
Young men and maids, and girls and boys,
Give life to one anothers joys;
And you anon shall by their noise
Perceive that they are merry.

Rank misers now do sparing shun;
Their hall of music soundeth;
And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things there aboundeth.
The country folks, themselves advance,
With crowdy-muttons out of France;
And Jack shall pipe, and Jyll shall dance,
And all the town be merry.

Ned Squash hath fetcht his bands from pawn,
And all his best apparel;
Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn
With dropping of the barrel.
And those that hardly all the year,
Had bread to eat, or rags to wear,
Will have both clothes and dainty fare,

And all the day be merry.

* For accounts of this very voluminous, and very unequal writer see "Athene Oxonienses," the Reliques of Antient English Poetry, and Mr. Ellis's very elegant publication, entitled, "Specimens of early English poets."

And then they shall be merry.

Good farmers in the country nurse

The poor, that else were undone;
Some landlords spend their money worse,

On lust and pride at London.
There the roysters they do play,
Drab and dice their lands away,
Which may be ours another day,

And therefore let's be merry.

The client now his suit forbears,
The prisoner's heart is eased;
The debtor drinks awayhis cares,
And for the time is pleased.
Though others purses be more fat,
Why should we pine, or grieve at that?
Hang sorrow! care will kill a cat,

And therefore let's be merry.

Hark how the wags abroad do call,
Each other forth to rambling;
Anon you'll see them in the hall,

For nuts and apples scrambling.
Hark! how the roofs with laughter sound,
Anon they'll think the house goes round,
For they the cellars depth have found,

And there they will be merry.
The wenches with their wassel bowls
About the streets are singing;
The boys are come to catch the owls,
The wild mare in it bringing.
Our kitchen boy hath broke his box,
And to the dealing of the ox,
Our honest neighbours come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.

Now kings and queens poor sheep cotes have,
And mute with every body;
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play the noddy.
Some youths will now a mumming go,
Some others play at Rowland-bo,
And twenty other game boys mo,

Because they will be merry.

Then wherefore in these merry daies,
Should we, I pray, be duller?
No, let us sing some, roundelayes,
To make our mirth the fuller.
And, whilst thus inspired we sing,
Let all the streets with echoes ring,
Woods and hills, and every thing,

Bear witness we are merry.

We were in great hopes of finding in this collection, a number of those artless expressions of sentiment which though hardly poetry, yet are poetical. The songs of the women when grinding their corn, when trampling [walking] their new linen, when churning, when washing, and at other, domestic labours, are specific, characteristic, and local: they describe sentiments, and display manners: but they are little known in the South; and in the North they are declining. We doubt not, that the hay-harvest, the cornharvest, threshing time, and other periods in the rural calender, had their catrols as well as Christmas. The "boatie rows,

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p. 352, is an instance of what we mean, though of a different kind from those mentioned; and among the poems for which we are beholden to the muse-inspired editor, are the graddan carrol, and the Dey's song. Antient songs on the same subjects would certainly interest us greatly, as ever will those effusions which bespeak the simple manners of rural life.

THE DEY'S SANG.

This is intended as a specimen of that kind of unpremeditted song for which the Scotish highlanders are remarkable. It may be observed, that, in this piece all the stanzas have a relation to each other, as being supposed to be sung by an individual, and confined entirely to one subject; whereas, in the foregoing, [the Graddan] (as in the Gaelic Luineag, of the manner of which it is an imitation), all the stanzas independent of cach other; so, that in any part of the song, the singers may digress at pleasure, laying hold of the circumstances of the moment, or introducing, as they commonly do, any person that happens to be present, into their extemporary effusions, without its appearing in the least foreed or unnatural.

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and his Gaelic was then by no means good; although he spoke it well enough to be intelligible. She informed him that she had nothing in the house that could be eaten,

except cheese, a little sour cream, and some

whisky. On being asked, rather sharply, how she could dress the greens without meal, she good-humouredly told him, that there was plenty of meal in the croft, pointing to some unreaped barley that stood dead-ripe and dry before the door; and if he could wait half an hour, he should have brose and butter, bread and cheese, bread and milk, or any thing that he chose. To this he most

readily consented, as well. on account of the singularity of the proposal,

as of the necessity

of the time; and the good dame set with all possible expedition about her arduous undertaking. She first of all brought him.some cream in a bottle, telling him, "He that will not work, neither shall he eat;" if he wished for butter, he must shake that bottle with all his might, and sing to it like a mavis all the while; for unless he sung to it, no butter would come. She then went to the croft; cut down some barley; burnt the straw to dry the grain; rubbed the grain between her hands, and threw it up before the wind, to separate it from the ashes; ground it upon a quern, or handmill; sifted it; made a bannoc of the meal; set it up to bake before the fire; went to her cow, that was reposing during the heat of the day, and eating some outside cabbage-leaves "ayont the hallan," singing like a lark all the

perfectly while, varying the strain according to the

The supposed scene of this song being peculiar and characteristic, it will be proper to give some account of it, in order that the nature and tendency of the piece may be the

better understood.

On a very hot day, in the beginning of autumn, the author when a stripling, was travelling a-foot over the mountain of Lochaber, from Fort Augustus to Inverness;

and when he came to the house where he was to have breakfasted, there was no person at home, nor was there any place where refreshment was to be had, nearer than Duris, which is eighteen miles from Fort Augustus. With this disagreeable prospect, he proceeded about three miles farther, and turned aside to the first cottage he saw, where he found a hale-looking, lively, tidy, little, middle-aged woman, spinning wool, with a pot on the fire, and some greens ready to be put into it. She understood

no

employment to which it was adapted. In the meanwhile a hen cackled under the eaves of the cottage; two new-laid eggs were im

mediately plunged into the boiling kail-pot; and in less than half an hour, the poor, starving, faint, and way-worn minstrel, with wonder and delight, sat down to a repast that under such circumstances, would have been a feast for a Prince.*

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The Dey's Sang is supposed to resemble that which the hospitable inatron sung tempore," while she was milking Hawkie. Like most songs of the same kind, it has a burden, tending to soothe the cow, and keep her quiet; there being generally in these things one line for sound, and one for sense,

THE DEY'S SANG. -By the Editor.
Pbroo, pbroo! my bonny cow,
(Pbroo, hawkie! ho, hawkie)
Ye ken the hand that's kend to you,
Sae let the drappie go, hawkie.

* This instance of salutary dexterity in
speedily administering to the wants of the
hungry traveller, in a bleak and thinly peo
pled country, will be found mentioned in
Sir Frederick Eden's English,
"State of the Poor,"

Your caufie's sleepin in the pen,
(Pbroo, hawkie! ho hawkie!)
He'll soon win to the pat again,
Sae let the drappie go, hawkie.
Pbroo, phroo, &c.
The stranger is come here the day,
(Pbroo, hawkie! ho, hawkie!)
We'll send him singin on his way,
Sae let the drappie go, hawkie.
Pbroo, pbroo, &c.
The day is meeth, and weary he,
(Pbroo, hawkie! ho, hawkie!)
While cozie in the bield, were ye;
Sae let the drappie go, hawkie.
Pbroo, pbroo, &c.
He'll bless you bouk when far awa
(Pbroo, hawkie! ho, hawkie!)
And scaff and raff ye ay sall ha'
Sae let the drappie go, hawkie.
Pbroo, pbroo, &c.

Sic bennison will sain ye still
(Pbroo, hawkie! ho, hawkie!)
Frae cantrip elf and quarter-ell;
Sae let the drappie go, hawkie.
Pbroo, pbroo, &c.

This Bucolic may seem shocking to

A pastoral poet who lives in Cheapside,

but it has more of nature in it than he is likely to behold without change of residence. We conclude by observing, that, Mr. Jamieson, with sundry northern bards whose effusions we have lately perused, convince us that Scotland may yet boast her poets, possessed of talents not unequal to those of former ages, whose productions this Editor, Mr. Walter Scott, and others, have assiduously employed themselves in recovering and recording for the amusement and advantage of future ge

nerations.

If we inclined to do more than "hesi"tate dislike," we might ask whether the same information might not have been given to the public in a single volume, and at less expense ? but as "wirewove cream-coloured paper, and hotpressed," seems by the law of custom, to form an integral part of a modern publication, we shall glance at it, without enlarging our censure at present.

From reasons of which we regret the effect, though the cause is unknown to us, we understand by his Editor that Mr. Jamieson has retired from his native country, and settled in a foreign land: we should hope that wherever he resides his muse will not be indolent.

VOL. I. [Lit. Pan. Dec. 1806.]

Œuvres de Louis XIV. The Works of Louis XIV. King of France, &c. 6 vols. Svo. Treuttel and Wurtz, Paris and Strasburgh. Price £3. Dulau London, 1806.

The title of this publication sufficiently points out its historical importance; to establish it, we need only to ascertain, that these volumes are the genuine production of the royal author whose name they bear.

From the advertisement of the editor, we learn, that the materials of this collection are partly manuscripts in the handwriting of Louis XIV. which had been already noticed by Voltaire, and by Mr. Millot. They were delivered by Louis, a year before his death, to the Marshal Duke de Noailles; and by him deposited, bound in three vols. folio, in the King's library, in 1749, with a certificate by, himself of their authenticity. These three volumes contain documents relative to the campaigns of Louis XIV., and several other writings, to which that King gave the title of Detached Pieces: such are: 1. Reflections on the trade of King (literally, métier de Roi): 2d. A memorial of instructions given to Philip V. when going to Spain: 3d. Draft of a proclamation by Louis XIV. to demand assistance of his subjects: 4th. Agenda; or short notes, containing hints of various plans connected with the events of the years 1666, and 1700.

The memoirs, or instructions, for the Dauphin, are not in the King's handwriting; but the three different copies from which they have been completed, leave no doubt as to their being his production. It has been ascertained that they were all written by Pelisson, who, as it is well known, was employed by the King, to write confidentially under him. The style and train of ideas form an intrinsic proof not to be mistaken; and the manner in which these manuscripts have become public, removes all doubts. The first of these copies was given by Louis XIV. himself, to the same Duke de Noailles with the other papers before-mentioned, and by him lodged in the Royal Library in 1758, as appears by the certificate of the librarian. It is by no means complete; yet from this manuscript, a hasty and incorrect edition of the Memoirs of Louis XIV. in two volumes 8vo. has

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been published, in the beginning of this year.

The second copy was found among the papers of a Mr. Souchai, who gave a complete edition of the works of Pelisson. It is in Pelisson's hand-writing, like the former; and was a present from the librarian, who received the first from the Duke de Noailles.

The other copy was given in 1786, by Louis XVI. to General Grimoard, among several other papers of the same nature, with directions to arrange the whole for the instruction of his children. We purpose reserving for the conclusion of this article our reflections on the works and character of Louis XIV.; but we cannot resist placing here the opinion entertained of both, by his ill-fated successor.

When Louis XVI, says M. Grimoard, (advertisement to Vol. III.) ordered me to prepare an edition of the Memoirs of Louis XIV, he told me, that notwithstanding the respect due to his memory, I was not to dissemble either his faults, or his imperfections; that, for instance, he had conceived an exaggerated idea of true greatness, which made him continually assume a stately deportment, little short of theatrical representation; that, on the other hand, continual flattery had rendered him vain; that this vanity appeared too frequently in his writings; and particularly in his military memoirs; and that, as the work he intrusted to me, was intended for the education of his children, and that mankind, especially in a tender age, had, unfortunately a stronger propensity to follow evil, evil, than good examples, he would feel obliged to me, (these were the King's expressions) to place in their proper light, those foibles of Louis XIV; thereby pointing out how much greater he would have been in reality, and how much more respectable in the eyes of 'posterity, if scorning pride, which produces only ridicule and humiliation, he had better known the distinction between inflated pomp and that noble, simple and dignified greatness, so necessary for the maintenance of sovereign power.

The fate of Louis XVI. demonstrates that these sentiments are more amiable

than useful in a King of France. Louis XIV. understood the nation he had to govern better than his more virtuous descendant; his dazzling qualities, many of them immoral and perricious, secured their blind obedience. We need not expatiate here on the dreadful consequences which followed the less politic, though inore honourable conduct of the last monarch,

The collection before us, is divided into five parts: the first, under the title of Mémoires historiques, given by the editor to the memoirs for the instruction of the Dauphin, contains the most remarkable events of Louis XIV.'s reign, from 1661 to 1608; with appropriate reflexions, for the use of his son. The second is composed of Mémoires historiques et militaires; it is a connected series of relations, with proper documents, of Louis XIV 's campaigns, from 1667 to 1694. Select letters to various persons form the third. The fourth includes an inconsiderable number of literary productions, entitled to notice only from the character of their author. The fifth and last part does not properly belong to the King; the editor in consequence has entitled it, Additions to the Works of Louis XIV: it contains historical documents, some never published before, others but little known, at least in France, of which a part is translated from Dalrymple's Memoirs, a work well known among us, but not better than it deserves to be.

In considering the various topics contained in this collection, we shall of course pay particular attention to those transactions which concern this country; following the chain of events, rather than the order of their distribution in the volumes. We may also add, that setting nationality aside, they certainly form the most interesting part of the work, and fully justify, as far as they go, Dalrymple's representations. Never did the Roman senate more despotically dispose of its tributary kings, and its creatures, than Louis XIV. disposed of Charles II. King of England, from 1668, to his death in 1684. No moral sentiment had sufficient power to repress in him that unfortunate propensity to venality, which derived a constant stimulus from the baseness of his manners. was, notwithstanding, kept for a time within certain bounds, by the influence of his chancellor, the respectable Clarendon, whom France, not expecting to seduce, endeavoured to ruin with his master. The disgrace of this minister left Charles surrounded only by profligate parasites, and free to obey the infamous dictates of his greedy passions. first he seems to have followed the usual tactics of those parliamentary orators, who, by a bold and direct attack, attempt

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