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« Such an one did I meet, good fir,

“ With an angelicke face?
“ Who like a nymphe, a queene appeard

“ Both in her gait, her grace.”

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Yes: she hath cleane forsaken me,

And left me all alone ;
Who some time loved me as her life,

And called me her owne.

56 What is the cause the leaves thee thus,

“ And a new way doth take,
" That some time loved thee as her life,

And thee her joy did make?

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His fond’ desire is fickle found,

And yieldes a trustlefse joye:
Wonne with a world of toil and care,

And loft ev'n with a toye,

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Such

Such is the love of womankinde,

Or Loves faire name abufde, Beneathe which many vaine defires,

And follyes are excufde.

But true love is a lasting fire,

" Which viewless veftals * tend, "That burnes for ever in the foule,

And knowes nor change, nor end.'

fc. Angels

XVI.

HAR DY K N U T E.

A SCOTTISH FRAGMENT.

As this fine morsel of heroic poetry hath generally past for an. cient, it is here thrown to the end of our earliest pieces ; that such as doubt of its age may the better compare it with other pieces of genuine antiquity. For after all, there is more than reason to suspect, that most of its beauties are of modern date; and that these at least (if not its whole existerce) have flowed from the pen of a lady, within this preJent century. The following particulars may be depended

on. One

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One Mrs. Wardlaw, whose maiden name was. Halket (aunt of the late for Peter Halket of Pit-ferran in Scotland, who was killed in America along with general Bradock in 1755) pretended fhe had found this poem, written on fbred's of paper, employed for what is called the bottoms of clues.

á sujpicion arose that it was her own composition. Some able judges asserted it be modern. The lady did in a manner acknowledge it to be fo. Being desired to hew an additional Janza, as a proof of this, she produced the three laft beginning with Loud and schrill, &c." which were not in the copy that was first printed. The late Lord President Fories, and Sir Gilbert Elliot of Minto (now Lord Justice Clerk for Scotland) who had believed it ancient, contributed to the expence of publishing the first Edition, which came out in folio about the year 1720.- This account is transmitted from Scotland by a gentleman of distinguished rank, learn: ing and genius, who yet is of opinion, that part of the ballad may be ancient ; but retouched and much enlarged by the lady abovementioned. Indeed he hath been informed, that the late William Thompson, the Scottish musician, who publijhed the ORPHEUS CALIDONIUS, 1733, 2 vols. 8vo, declared hse had heard fragments of it repeated during his infancy : before ever Mrs. Wardlaw's copy was heard of.

STately ftept he east the wa,

And stately ftept he west,
Full seventy zeirs he now had sene,

With kerss sevin zeirs of rest.
He livit quhen Britons breach of faith

Wroucht Scotland meikle wac:
And ay his sword tauld to their coft,

He was their deidly fae.

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Hie on a hill his castle stude,

With halls and touris a hicht, And guidly chambers fair to fe,

Quhair he lodgit mony a knicht. His dame sae peirless anes and fair,

For chaft and bewtie deimt, Nae marrow had in all the land,

Saif Elenor the quene.

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Full thirtein fons to him scho bare,

All men of valour stout;
In bluidy ficht with sword in hand

Nyne lost their lives bot doubt ;
Four zit remain, lang may they live

To stand by liege and land :
Hie was their fame, hie was their micht,

And hie was their command.

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Great love they bare to Fairly fair,

Their fifter saft and deir,
Her girdle fhawd her midle gimp,

And gowden glift her hair.
Quhat waefou wae her bewtie bred?

Waefou to zung and auld,
Waefou I trow to kyth and kin,

As story ever tauld.

30

The

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The king of Norse in fummer tyde,

Puft up with powir and micht,
Landed in fair Scotland the yle,

With mony a hardy knicht.
The tydings to our gude Scots king

Came, as he fat at dyne,
With noble chiefs in braif aray,

Drinking the blude-reid wyne.

" To horse, to horse, my ryal liege,

Zours faes stand on the strand,
Full twenty thousand glittering spears

The king of Norse commands."
Bring me my fteed Mage dapple gray,

Our gude king raise and cryd, A trustier beast in all the land

A Scots king nevir seyd.

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Go little page, tell Hardyknute,

That lives on hill so hie,
To draw his fword, the dreid of faes,

And haste and follow me.
The little page few swift as dart

Flung by his masters arm,
“ Cum down, cum down, lord Hardyknute,

And rid zour king frae harm.”

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