colours on the bending stalks.[1] Some red, &c. Others watchet like the blue and wavy sea; speckled with red and white; or bright as gold, the daisy unbraided her little coronet, the grapes stood embattled with banewort. The seeded down flew from the dandelion. Young weeds appeared among the leaves of the strawberries. Gay gilliflowers, &c. The rose buds putting forth, offered their red vernal lips to be kissed; and diffused fragrance from the crisp scarlet that surrounded their golden seeds. Lillies with white curling tops, showed their crests open. The odorous vapour moistened the silver webs that hung from the leaves. The plain was powdered with round dewy pearls. From every bud, scion, herb, and flower, bathed in liquid fragrance, the bee sucked sweet honey. The swans clamoured amidst the rustling' weeds, and searched all the lakes and grey rivers where to build their nests. Among the boughs of the twisted olive, the small birds framed their artful nests, or along the thick hedges, or rejoiced with their merry mates on the tall oaks. In the secret nooks, or in the clear windows of glass, the spider full busily wove her sly net, to ensnare the little gnat or fly. Under the boughs that screen the valley, or within the pale-enclosed park, the nimble deer trooped in ranks, the harts wandered through the thick woody shaws, and the young fawns followed the dappled does. Kids skipped through the briars after the roes, and in the pastures and leas, the lambs, full tight and trig, went bleating to their dams. Meantime dame nature's minstrels raise their amorous notes, the ring-dove coos and pitches on the tall copse, the starling whistles her varied descant, the sparrow chirps in the clefted wall, the goldfinch and linnet filled the skies, the cuckoo cried, the quail twittered; while rivers, shaws, and every dale resounded; and the tender branches trembled in the trees, at the song of the birds, and the buzzing of the bees."
The original poet concludes with the following fine apostrophe:
Welcum the lord of licht, and lampe of day,
Welcum fosterare of tender herbis grene,
Welcum quickener of Surest flouris schene,
Welcum support of every rute and vane,
Welcum comfort of all kind frute and grace,
Welcum the birdis beild upon the brier,
Welcum maister and ruler of the year,
Welcum weilfare of husbands at the plewis,
Welcum repairer of woddis, treis, and bewis
Welcum depainter of the blomyt medis,
Welcum the lyf of every thing that spedis,
Welcum storare of all kind bestial,
Welcum be thy bricht beams gladand all!
As a still further expedient for making modern readers acquainted with the beauties of this ancient poet and honour of our country, we have ventured upon the somewhat hazardous experiment of a versified translation; taking for this purpose the description of a June evening, from the prologue to the thirteenth book, and entering before hand the following protest, furnished to our hands by the poet himself:
"I set my besy pane,
As that I couth, to mak it brade and plane,
Kepand no Sudroun bot our awin language,
And speke as I lerned quhen I wes ane page:[2]
Na yit so clene all Sudroun I refuse,
Bot some worde I pronunce as nychboure dois;
