Of venison he had his waill”,
Gude aquavitae, wyne, and aill,
With nobill confeittis, bran, and geille,
And swa the Squyer fuir richt weill.
Sa to heir mair of his narration,
The ladie cam to his collation,
Sayand he was richt welcum hame.
Grand-mercie, then, quod he, Madame!
They past the time with ches and tabill,
For he to everie game was abill.
Than unto bed drew eyerie wicht;
To chalmer went this ladie bricht;
The quilk this Squyer did convoy,
Syne till his bed he went with joy.
That nicht he sleepit+ never ane wink,
But still did on the ladie think.
Cupido, with his fyrie dart,
Did piers him sa throwout the hart,
Sa all that nicht he did but murnit
Sum tyme sat up, and sum tyme turnit
Sichand", with mony gant and grane,
To fair Venus makand his mane,
Sayando, fair ladie, what may this mene,
I was ane free man lait? yestreen,
And now ane captive bound and thrall,
For ane that I think flowr of all.
I pray God sen scho knew my mynd,

How for hir saik I am sa pynd: Choice. - Jelly.—3 Fared. Slept.- Sighing. - Saying. -7 Late.

Wald God I had been yit in France,
Or I had hapnit sic mischance;
To be subject or serviture
Till ane quhilk takes of me na cure.
This ladie ludgit nearhand by,
And hard the Squyer prively,
With dreidful hart makand his mane,
With monie careful gant and grane;
Hir hart fulfillit with pitie,
Thocht scho wald haif of him mercie,
And said, howbeit I suld be slane,
He sall have lufe for lufe agayne:
Wald God I micht, with my honour,
Have him to be my paramour.
This was the mirrie tyme of May,
Quhen this fair ladie, freshe and gay,
Start up to take the hailsum air,
With pantouns* on hir feit ane pair,
Airlie into ane cleir morning,
Befoir fair Phoebus' uprysing:
Kirtill alone, withoutin clok,
And sa the Squyers door unlok.
She slippit in or evir he wist,
And feynitlies past till ane kist,
And with hir keys oppenit the lokkis,
And made hir to take furth ane boxe,
Bot that was not hir errand thare:
With that this lustie young Squyar

Lodged. Groan.3 Wholesome.-4 Slippers.5 Feigningly.—6 Pretended.

Saw this ladie so pleasantlie
Com to his chalmer quyetlie,
In kirtill of fyne damais brown,
Hir golden tresses hingand doun ;
Hir pappis were hard, round, and quhyte,
Quhome to behold was greit deleit;
Lyke the quhyte lillie was her lyre”;
Hir hair wes like the reid gold weir ;
Hir scharckis quhyte, withouten hois”,
Quhareat the Squyar did rejois,
And said, then, now vailye quod vailye*,
Upon the ladie thow mak ane sailye.
Hir courtlyke kirtill was unlaist,
And sone into his armis hir braist.

*

SIR THOMAS WYATT,

Called the elder, to distinguish him from his son, who suffered in the reign of Q. Mary, was born ať Allington Castle, in Kent, in 1503, and was educated at Cambridge. He married early in life, and was still earlier distinguished at the court of Henry VIII. with whom his interest and favour were so great as to be proverbial. His person was majestic and beautiful, his visage (according to Surrey's interesting description), was “stern and mild :" he sung and played the lute with remarkable sweetness, spoke foreign languages with grace and fluency, and possessed an inexhaustible fund of wit. At the death of Wolsey he could not be more than 19; yet he is said to have contributed to that minister's downfall by a humorous story, and to have promoted the reformation by a seasonable jest. At the coronation of Anne Boleyn he officiated for his father as ewerer, and possibly witnessed the ceremony not with the most festive emotions, as there is reason to suspect that he was secretly attached to the royal bride. When the tragic end of that princess was approaching, one of the calumnies circulated against her was, that Sir Thomas Wyatt had confessed having had an illicit intimacy with her. The scandal was certainly false; but that it arose from a tender partiality really believed to exist between them, seems to be no overstrained conjecture. His poetical mistress's name is Anna: and in one of his sonnets he complains of being obliged to desist from the pursuit of a beloved object, on account of its being the king's, The perusal of his poetry was one of the unfortunate queen's last consolations in prison. A tradition of Wyatt's attachment to her was long preserved in his family. She retained his sister to the last about her person;, and, as she was about to lay her head on the block, gave her

weeping attendant a small prayer-book, as a token of re. membrance, with a smile of which the sweetness was not effaced by the horrors of approaching death. Wyatt's favour at court, however, continued undiminished; and notwithstanding a quarrel with the Duke of Suffolk, which occasioned his being committed to the Tower, he was, immediately on his liberation, appointed to a command under the Duke of Norfolk, in the army that was to act against the rebels. He was also knighted, and, in the following year, made high sheriff of Kent.

When the Emperor Charles the Fifth, after the death of Anne Boleyn, apparently forgetting the disgrace of his aunt in the sacrifice of her successor, shewed a more conciliatory disposition towards England, Wyatt was, in 1537, selected to go as ambassador to the Spanish court. His situation there was rendered exceedingly difficult, by the mutual insincerity of the negotiating powers, and by his religion, which exposed him to prejudice, and even at one