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XII.

ROBIN AND MAKYNE.

AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH PASTORAL. The palm of pastoral poesy is here contested by a cotemporary writer with the author of the foregoing. Tbe reader will decide their respective merits. The author of this poem has one advantage over his rival, in having his name handed down to us.

Mr. Robert HenrySON (to whom we are indebted for it) appears to so much advantage among the writers of eclogue, that we are forry we can give no better account of him, than what is contained in the following eloge, writ by W. Dunbar, a Scottish poet, who lived about the middle of the 16th century :

In Dumferling, he [death] hath tane Broun,

With gude Mr. Robert Henryfon." In Ramsey's.EverGREEN, Vol. I. whence this diffich, and the following beautiful poem are extracted, are preserved two other little Doric pieces, by Henryfon; the one intitled The LYON AND THE MOUSE ; the other, THE GARMENT OF GUDE LADYIS.

Obin fat on the gude grene hill,

Keipand a flock of fie,
Quhen mirry Makyne said him till,

v O Robin rew on me.
" I haif three luivt baith loud and fill, . 5

" Thir towmonds twa or thre :
“My dule in dern but gif thou dill,
" Doubtless bot dreid I die."
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Robin

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Robin replied, Now by the rude,

Naithing of luve I knaw,
But keip my sheip undir yon wod :

Lo quhair they raik on raw.
Quhat can have mart thee in thy mude,

Thou Makyne to me schaw;
Or quhat is luve, or to be lude ?

Fain wald I leir that law.

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“ The law of luve gin thou wald leir,

« Tak thair an A, B, C; “ Be keynd, courtas, and fair of feir,

Wyse, hardy, kind and frie, “ Sae that nae danger do the deir,

“ What dule in dern thou drie; “ Press ay to pleis, and blyth appeir,

“ Be patient and privie."

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Robin, he answert her again,

I wat not quhat is luve, But I haif marvel uncertain

Quhat makes thee thus wanrufe.
The wedder is fair, and I am fain ;

My sheep gais hail abuve,
Gif we fould pley us on the plain,

They wald us baith repruve,

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" Robin, tak tent unto my tale,

" And do all as I reid; " And thou fall haif my heart all hale, 66 Eik and my

maiden-heid : " Sen God, he sends bute for bale,

- And for murning remeid, 66 I dern with thee but give I dale,

" Doubtless I am but deid.”

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Makyne, the morn be this ilk tyde,

Gif ye will meit me heir, Maybe my sheip may gang befyde,

Quhyle we have liggd full neir;
But maugre haif I, gif I byde,

Frae thay begin to steir,
Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd,

Then Makyne mak gude cheir.

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“ Robin, thou reivs me of my rest;

" I luve but thee alane." Makyne, adieu ! the sun goes welt,

The day is neir-hand gane. " Robin, in dule I am so drest, 66 That luve will be

my

bane." Makyne, gae luve quhair eir ye lift,

For lemans I luid nane.

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16 Robin,

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* Robin, I stand in fic a style,

66 I fich and that full fair.” Makyne, I have bene here this quyle,

At hame I wish I were. “ Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle,

" Gif thou will do nae mair.” Makyne, fom other man beguyle,

For hameward I will fare,

he went,

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Syne Robin on his ways

As light as leif on tree;
But Makyne murnt and made lament,

Scho trow'd him neir to fce.
Robin he brayd attowre he bent :

Then Makyne cried on hie, « Now may thou sing, for I am hent !

Quhat can ail luve at me?"

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Makyne went hame withouten fail,

And weirylie could weip;
Then Robiu in a full fair dale

A fiemblit all his fieip.
Be that some part of Makyne's ail,

Out-throw his heart could creip,
Hir fait he followt to assail,

And till her tuke gude keip.

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Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne,

A word for ony thing;
For all my luve, it fall be thyne,

Withoutten departing.
All hale thy heart for till have myne,

Is all my coveting ;
My sheip quhyle morn till the hours nyne,

Will mister nae keiping.

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“ Robin, thou haft heard sung and say,

“ In jests and storys auld, " The man that will not when he

may, " Sall have nocht when he wald. “ I pray to heaven baith nicht and day,

« Be eikd their cares fae cauld, “ That presses first with thee to play

“ Be forrest, firth, or fauld.”

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Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,

The wether warm and fair,
And the grene wod richt neir hand by,

To walk attowre all where :
There may nae janglers us espy,

That is in luve contrair ;
Therein, Makyne, baith you and I

Unseen may mak repair.

« Robin,

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