MINUTA CANTABRIGIENSIA.

Ψήγματα και αραιωματα. A thing of shreds and patches.

I.

ON THE APPOINTMENT OF ONE WHO HAD NO MUSICAL POWERS, TO A CHORISTER'S PLACE
AT CAMBRIDGE, MERELY BECAUSE HE WAS A FREEHOLDER OF NORTHAMPTONSHIRE.

"A singing man, and yet not sing!
Come, justify your patron's bounty:
Give us a song."-" Excuse me, sir
My voice is in another county."

II.

ON A STUDENT BEING PUT OUT OF COMMONS, FOR MISSING CHAPEL.

To fast and pray we are by Scripture taught:

O could I do but either as I ought!

In both, alas! I err; my frailty such

I pray too little, and I fast too much.

III.

ON A PETIT-MAITRE PHYSICIAN.

When P-nn-ngt-n for female ills indites,
Studying alone not what, but how he writes,
The ladies, as his graceful form they scan,
Cry-with ill-omen'd rapture" Killing man!"

IV.

ON THE MARRIAGE OF A VERY THIN COUPLE.

St Paul has declared, that when persons, though twain,
Are in wedlock united, one flesh they remain :

But had he been by, when, like Pharaoh's kine pairing,
Dr D-gl-s of B-n-t espoused Miss M-nw-r-ng,
The Apostle, no doubt, would have alter'd his tone,

And have said, "These two splinters shall now make one bone."

V.

Had thy spouse, Dr Drumstick, been ta'en from thy side,
In the same way that Eve became Adam's fair bride,

And again by thy side on the bridal bed laid;

Though thou could'st not, like Adam, have gallantly said,

"Thou art flesh of my flesh"-because flesh thou hast none

Thou with truth might'st have said, "Thou art bone of my bone."

VI.

ON A VERY TINY ANGLE, ENCLOSED AND PLANTED WITH SHRUBS.

This little garden little Jowett made,
And fenced it with a little palisade.
A little taste hath little Dr Jowett :
This little garden doth a little shew it.

LATINE.

Exiguum hunc hortum fecit Jowettulus iste
Exiguus, vallo et muriit exiguo :
Exiguo hoc horto forsan Jowettulus iste
Exiguus mentem prodidit exiguam.

Φ

THE GROUSOME CARYL;

Ane most Treuthful Ballant,

Compilit be MR HOUGGE.

THERE wals ane man came out of the weste,

And ane uncouth caryl wals hee,

For the bouzely hayre upon his hede

Wals pirlit with his derke eebree.

And the feint ane browe had this caryl ava,
That mortyl man cold see,

For all from his noz to his sholder blaide
Wals dufflit rychte fearsomelye.

And hee nouther hald bonnet, hoze, nor shone,
Nor sarke nor trewis hald hee,

But ane short buffe jerking rounde his waiste,
That hardlye reechyt his knee.

And hee hald a belt of the gude bullis hyde,
And ane buckil of irone hald hee,
And he buir ane pole on his sholder,
Wals ten lang feite and three.

Als hee came up by the Craigyeburn,
With stalwarde steppe and free,

Hee lokit up to the Saddil-Yoke,
Als hee wolde take wingis and flec..

And

aye hee keuste his burlye heede To flyng the hayre from his ee;

And hee hemmit and snockerit so awsome loude,

That the levis shoke on the tree.

And the lyttel wee burdis helde up their neckis,
And maide their croppis full sma',

And till that caryl wals out of sychte,
Ane breath they durste not drawe.

And the wodeman grypit to his long bille,
Thynking his lyffe wals gone,

And ranne behynde the hezil bushe,

Tille the stalwarde caryl passit on.

And the deeris toke to their heelis and ranne,
With their nozes fro the wynde,

And till they wonne to Carryfron Gans,
They nefer lokit them behynde.

And the verrye doggis of the sheepherd ladis
Were seizit with burninge dreide,

For they toke their tailes betweine their houghis,
And made to the braies with speide:

And they eshotte out their crookyt tungis,
In lenthe more than ane spanne,
And laid their luggis backe to their neckis,
And whynkit als theye ranne.

And the oussen cockyt their stupid heedis,
And swatchyt theire tailis full longe,
And aye they caiperit rounde and rounde,
And wiste not quhat wals wronge.

And aye quhan the caryl gave a yowte,
Or snockerit with belsche and braye,
Then all the rockis playit clatter agayne,
And nicherit for mylis awaye.

And the welderis started on the steipe,
Or scowrit alongis the lee,

And the lyttil wee kiddis rose from their layris,
And blette moste erdlischlye.

But iffe this caryl wals fleshe and blude,
Or ane monstoure comit fro helle,

Or risen out of the deepis of the se,
No manne in the londe colde telle.

But sickan ane daye and sickan ane fraye,
Or sickan ane frightesome tale,
Nevir pat that contraye in dismaye,
Since God maide Annerdaille.

For it wals saide ane horryde trayne
Had passit at the braike of daye,
Of monstouris haisting out of the weste,
And bounde for the fellis away.

The caryl he came to the Greye-Meris Linne,
Benethe the rorynge steipe,

And he howckyt ane holle lyke bendyd bowe, Ane trenche bothe longe and deipe.

And he pullit the braiken fro the slacke,
The hedder fro the hille,

The rown-tree fro the Straung-Cleuche Linne,
And the birke of the Raken Guille.

And seven Scottis ellis of that deipe holle,
He coverit up cairfullye,

And there he laye with his horrid crewe,

Unseine be mortyl ee;

For no manne dorst come nie that houffe,

For the lyffe of his bodye.

But the oussen sancted fro the houmis,

The welderis fro the brae;

Quhille the herdis gromblit throu the londe,
And wist not quhat til saye.

Young maidis were missyng fro their beddis,"
Before the brikke of the daye,

And moderis rockyd their tome credlis,
For the bairnis had elyit awaye.

But worde is gone easte, and worde is gone weste, From Yarrawe unto the Ae;

And came to the Lord of Annerdaille,

At Lochess quhare he laye.

That Lorde he leuche at his vasselmenis tale,

And he sayde full jocundlye,

I will wende to the Grey-Meris Linne the morne,
This grousome caryl to see.

Lord Annerdaille rose at the skreigh of the daye,
And mounted his berry-browne steide,
With foure-and-twentye wale wychte menne,
To guairde him in tymme of neide.

And thre stainche blode-hundis at his heile,
Of the terrouble border brude,

That weille cold tracke the mydnichte theiffe,
Or the sheddour of Chrystean blude.

And quhen hee comit to the Hunter-Heck,
Och there wals a greeveous maene,
For somethynge wals myssing over nychte,
That colde not be tolde againe.

But hee lousit the leishes of his blode-hundis
That lokit bothe doure and droye,

For they nouthir rowit them on the swairde,
Nor scamperit runde for joye.

But they snokyd the dewe, and snokyd the dewe,
And snokit it ouer againe;

And the byrsis raise uponne their backis,
Broschit lyke ane wyld boris maine.

Then Jowler hee begoude to youffe,
With a shorte and ane aungrie tone,

And German's ee begoude to glent,
With a blode-reide glaire thereonne.

But Harper turnit his flewe to the hevinis,
And hee gaif ane tout so longe,
That all the wodis in Moffat-daille,
With moulesse echois ronge.

That wals the true and the wairnynge note,
Awaye wente the hundis amaine,

And awaye wente the horsmen them behynde,
With spurre and with steddye reine.

But the fordis were deippe, and the bankis were steippe,
And paithwaye there wals none,

And or they wonne to the Selcothe Burne,
The braif blode-hundis were gone.

But they hearit the echois dynnling on,
Alonge the cludis so caulme,
Als gin the spyritis of the fellis

Were synging their mornyng psaulme.

And the egill lefte his mistye haime,
Amiddis the cliffe so grimme,

And he belted the mornyngis ruddye browe,
And joinit in the blodye hymme.

"Spur on, spur on," cryit Anuerdaille,
"Leiste evil mine hundis betydde,
Gin the reiveris hydde were maide of irne,
Ane ryving it moste bydde."-

Quhan they came up to the Greye-Meris Linne,
To the trenche bothe deippe and longe,
Lord Annerdaille's steide turnit runde his heide,
No farther he dockte gange:

But aye he scraipyd, and he snori t

And lukyd with wylde dismaye,
And fain wald haif spoken to his maister;
But colde not get worde to saye.

"Who holdis this holle," cryit Annerdaille,
"This denne of dreide and doubte?
Gin yee bee creaturis of mortyl byrthe,
I soummont you to come oute."

He hearit ane snockir, and than ane laughe,
And than ane smotherit screime,

Als gin the devil hald been asleipe
And wakenit oute of ane dreime.

And the three blode-hundis youlit aloude,
Quhan theye hearit their maisteris voyce;
For theye were chainit withyne the cave;
And frightesome grewe the noise.

But oute then came the grousome caryl,
And up on his trenche stode hee,
And his towzlye hede it kythit als hiche
Als the hill of Turnberrye.

Lord Annerdaille hald not worde to saye,
For his herte it beatte so faste;

And thoche he put grette couryge on,
He stode full sore aghaste.

VOL. XVII.

L