the grim and bloody struggle round Dunkeld Cathedral. Scott wrongly assumed him to have been the father of Pope's friend Cleland.

But for the low ebb of literature in Scotland, Cleland would never be named amongst poets. Still, his uncouth verses-mainly satirical-record the temper of the times, and have a considerable linguistic interest. What he wrote was not old Scots, nor the Scots of Ramsay and Burns, but an imperfect English stuffed full of Scots words, forms, and locutions-gaunt (yawn), spear (ask), thir (these), kenn, lith, swerff; thou's (thou art), thou wear's (thou wearest), sawen (sown), crub'd (curbed), leugh (laughed). Further, words spelt as English ones must be pronounced as Scotch in order to rhyme-thus, wool rhymes with true, dissecting with checking, enacts them with takes them (pronounced enacks them, taks them), guard with laird. Snizeing (sneeshing) is already used for snuff; in coarck his coots for 'grip his ankles' we have an odd combination of Scottish Ciceronianism and the mere vernacular; and 'makes the thrush bush [tuft of rushes] keep the cow' is an interesting echo of the famous vow of James I. (of Scotland).

Cleland's Poems and Verses appeared in a small volume in 1697, and contain nine stanzas written by him as 'An Adition to the Lines of "Hollow my Fancie" when he was a student at St Andrews.' The anonymous poem so named was well known before the middle of the century, and Cleland's addition falls far below the humble literary level of the original. The first two stanzas given below are from the earliest set of words.

From 'Hallo, my Fancy.'

When I look before me,

There I do behold

There's none that sees or knows me;

All the world's a-gadding,

Running madding ;

None doth his station hold.

He that is below envieth him that riseth,
And he that is above, him that's below despiseth,
So every man his plot and counter-plot deviseth.

Hallo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go?

Look, look, what bustling

Here I do espy;

Each another jostling,

Fain would I hear his fiery horses neighing, And see how they on foamy bits are playing; All the stars and planets I will be surveying!

Hallo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go? . . . Hallo, my fancy, hallo,

Stay thou at home with me;

I can thee no longer follow,
Thou hast betrayed me,
And bewrayed me;

It is too much for thee.

Stay, stay at home with me; leave off thy lofty soaring;
Stay thou at home with me, and on thy books be poring;
For he that goes abroad lays little up in storing:
Thou's welcome home, my fancy, welcome home to me.

From Cleland's pen (less dexterous than his sword) we have also one or two elegies-as on the famous Covenanter M'Ward-rhymed epistles, and other occasional verses, but the bulk of the book is occupied with two 'mock poems' or satires, one 'Upon the Expedition of the Highland Host, who came to destroy the Western Shires in Winter 1678,' and another on the Episcopal clergy who 'met to consult about the Test in 1681.' The Highlanders, regarded then by all Lowlanders as savages on the level of the mere Irish, were in spite of the earnest protest of the landed gentlemen of the west-let loose on the Covenanting shires to suppress conventicles, and to this end had free quarters amongst the countryfolk, and were empowered to seize horses and ammunition, and, if necessary, 'to kill, wound, apprehend, and imprison' Nonconformists. The following (in which the 'she'll' and the 'nainsell' show that the jokes against the Highlander trying. to speak Lowland Scotch were early stereotyped) describes

Every one turmoiling,

Th' other spoiling,

As I did pass them by.

One sitteth musing in a dumpish passion,

Another hangs his head because he's out of fashion,
A third is fully bent on sport and recreation.
Hallo, my fancy, whither wilt thou go?

In conceit like Phaeton,
I'll mount Phoebus' chair,
Having ne'er a hat on,
All my hair a-burning
In my journeying,

Hurrying through the air.

A slashed-out coat beneath their plaides,
A targe of timber, nails, and hides;
With a long two-handed sword,
As good's the country can afford-
Had they not need of bulk and bones,
Who fights with all these arms at once?
It's marvelous how in such weather,
Ov'r hill and hope they came together;
How in such stormes they came so farr;
The reason is they 're smeared with tar,
Which doth defend them heel and neck,
Just us it doth their sheep protect.
But least ye doubt that this is true
They 're just the colour of tar'd wool.

valley

lest

pron. 'oo

Robert Wodrow (1679–1734), Scottish Church historian, was born at Glasgow and studied in its university, where his father was Professor of Divinity; in 1703 he became minister of Eastwood. His History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland 1660-88 (1721-22) was dedicated to George I. He was a zealous Presbyterian, an indefatigable collector, and an honest recorder, though not free from partisanship and credulousness; and his work is of very high value for his period. Not till next century were published his Lives of the Scottish Reformers (Maitland Club, 1834-45); Analecta, or a History of Remarkable Providences (Maitland Club, 1842-43); Correspondence (Wodrow Soc., 1842-43); and Biographical Collections (New Spalding Club, 1890). The following passages are both from the Analecta :

The Divel and the Divinity Student. When Mr Robert Blair was minister of St Andreus, there was a youth who applyed to that presbitry to be admitted to tryals. Though he was very unfit, the presbitry appoints him a text, and after he had been at all the pains he could in consulting help, yet he got nothing done, so that he turned very melancholy; and one day, as he was walking all alone in a remote place from St Andreus, there came up to him a stranger, in habite like a minister, with black coat and band, and who addressed the youth very courteously, and presently falls into discourse with him after this manner: 'Sir, you are but a young man, and yet appear to be very melancholy; pray, why so pensive?' He answered, 'It's to no purpose to communicat my mind to yow, seeing yow cannot help me.' 'How know you that? Pray let me know the cause of your pressure.' Says the youth, I have got a text from the presbitry. I cannot for my life compose a discourse on it, so I shall be affronted.' The stranger replyed, Sir, I am a minister; let me hear the text.' He told him. 'O, then, I have ane excellent sermon on that text here in my pocket, which yow may peruse and commit to your memory. I engage, after yow have delivered it before the presbitry, yow shall be greatly approven and applauded;' so pulls it out and gives it to him, which he received very thankfully. Then says the stranger, 'As I have obliged yow now, sir, so yow will oblige me again in doing any peece of kindness or service when my business requires it ;' which the youth promises. 'But, sir,' says the stranger, 'yow and I are strangers, and therefore I would require of yow a written promise, subscribed with your hand, in case yow forget the favour which I have done yow;' which he granted likewise, and delivered it to him subscribed with his blood. And thus they parted.

Upon the presbitry day the youth delivered ane

excellent sermon upon the text appointed him, which pleased and amazed the presbitry to a degree; only Mr Blair smelt out something in it which made him call the youth aside to a corner of the church, and thus he began with him: Sir, yow have delivered a nate sermon, every way well pointed. The matter was profound, or rather sublime; your stile was fine and your method clear; and no doubt young men at the beginning must make use of helps, which I doubt not but yow have done.' The young man acknowledged he had. But,' says Mr Blair, besydes the use of books, I know sometimes they are obliged to consult men that are scholars and well versed in divinity, to help them in their composours. Have yow not done soe? He said he had. Mr Blair says, 'Yow may use all freedome with me; I intend yow no hurt. Did yow not get the whole of this discourse written and ready to your hand from one who pretended to be a minister?' He acknowledged the same. Blair says, 'No doubt but yow would give him thanks for his favour, and promise to do him any peece of service he called for, when his business [doth] lye in yowr way?' He answered 'Yes.' 'But yowr verbal promises would not be sufficient did yow not give him a written promise subscribed with your blood?' All which he confessed with fear, blushing, and confusion. Then Mr Blair, with ane awful seriousness appearing in his countenance, began to tell the youth his hazard, and that the man whom he took for a minister was the Divel, who had trepanned him and brought him into his net: advised him to be earnest with God in prayer, and likewise not to give way to dispair, for there was yet hope.

Mr

In the meantime the youth was so overcome with fear and terror that he was like to fall down. Mr Blair exhorts him to take heart, and brings him in with him into the presbitry: and when all except the ministers were removed, Mr Blair recalls the whole story to them. They were all strangely affected with it, and resolved unanimously to dispatch the presbitry business presently, and to stay all night in town, and on the morrow to meet for prayer in one of the most retired churches of the presbitry, acquainting none with there busines, but taking the youth alongst with them, whom they keeped alwise close by them. Which was done, and after the ministers had prayed all of them round, except Mr Blair, who prayed last, in time of his prayer then came a violent rushing of wind upon the church, so great that they all thought the church should have fallen down about there ears, and with that the youth's paper and covenant droops down from the roof of the church among the ministers. I heard no more of the story.

Gillespie's End.

It came to that, he keept his chamber still to his death, wearing and wasting, hoasting [coughing] and sweating. Ten dayes before his death his sweating went away, and his hoasting lesned, yet his weaknes still encreased. His wife seeing the time draw near, spake to him and said, "The time of your releife is nou near and hard at hand!" He answered, 'I long for that time! O happy they that are there!' This was the last word he was heard sensibly to speak. Mr Frederick Carmichael being there, they went to prayer, expecting death so suddenly. In the midst of prayer he left his ratling, and the pangs and fetches of death began; thence his senses went away. Wherupon they rose from prayer, and beheld till in a very gentle manner the pinns of his tabernacle wer loosed.

831

And it

IN the first section, the influence of the Celtic temperament and culture has been recognised as stimulating and modifying the trend of early English intellectual life; but in this work it is not possible directly to take cognisance of the literatures of the races other than Anglic who have contributed essential elements to the mixed people now inhabiting the British Islands. Besides English in its various dialects and successive stages, at least five languages have been spoken by those at home within this area even if we arrange the Celtic tongues in two groups only-Irish, Manx, and Scotch Gaelic; Welsh and Cornish. The lingua Latina rustica was spoken in the Roman colonies for four centuries at least; and in the Middle Ages Church and Law Latin was the literary vehicle of some of the greatest Englishmen, and practically the vernacular of synods and of monasteries. From the Norman Conquest to the days of Edward III., as we have seen, Norman French was the language of literature. should be remembered that for generations the old Norse in some shape was spoken and written not merely in Shetland and Orkney and at the court of the Jarls of Caithness, but in the Western Islands of Scotland, in the Danelagh of England, and in the Danish kingdoms of Dublin, Limerick, and Waterford good authorities hold that considerable portions of the collection called the Corpus Poeticum Boreale were written by the Scandinavians of Ireland. Other languages were doubtless spoken in Britain before the arrival of the first Celtic invaders, those of the Ivernian or other prehistoric inhabitants; and some Celtic philologists now trace the peculiarities of Irish, Welsh, and the neo-Celtic tongues to the old pre-Aryan language, characteristics they share with other languages of the old Mediterranean stock, ancient Egyptian and modern Berber. In Wales, as in France, the best authorities hold that the vast majority of the present inhabitants are sprung-not from the Celts or any of the successive invaders-but from the race or races who held the land before the coming of the Aryans. A fortiori, this is even truer of Ireland and the Highlands. The first Celts to invade Britain were the Goidels, who became incorporated with their non-Aryan subjects; a like process took place when the later Brythonic conquerors established themselves in Britain. Nowhere in the Celtic fringe' are the people of pure Celtic descent; and it may well be that what is especially characteristic of Irish literature and is interpreted as the true 'Celtic note' is not of Celtic origin at all, but reflects the moods of the earlier non-Aryan inhabitants of Erin, from

whom the conquering Gael, invaders from Britain, learnt the manner of the gods of the land, the really autochthonous legends and folklore.

The Cymric literature of Wales has a history of nine or ten centuries and still flourishes; and for three or four hundred years men of Welsh blood have been contributors to English literature. Such Welshmen have not been very numerous nor of the first importance. They have not been regarded as wholly aliens in England; and as they wrote in the literary English of their time, it has not been thought necessary to treat them in a separate division of this work. Vaughan the Silurist and his brother are amongst the most unmistakable; James Howell, cosmopolitan though he was in temper, was Welsh by birth as he was in name and blood. John Davies of Hereford was a Welshman born just outside the principality; Sir John Davies may have been of Welsh blood. The Pembroke Herberts were a great Welsh house, and Lord Herbert of Cherbury and George Herbert were apparently both born at their father's home of Montgomery Castle. John Donne, a power in English literature, was said to be of Welsh descent; and the great Puritan, John Owen, is known, apart from his Welsh name, to have been of an old Welsh family. Roger Williams-in Milton's words, that noble confessor of religious liberty,' and founder of Rhode Island-was a fiery Welshman. And earlier, Asser, Geoffrey of Monmouth, Walter Map, and the rationalist Bishop Pecock by their writings left their mark deep enough on mediæval Latin, Anglo-French, and English thought. These are all notable figures in the history of our literature before the end of the seventeenth century, and are treated in their proper chronological places. Guillim, in virtue of his great folio Display of Heraldrie (1610), the eponym of the science, was born at Hereford of Welsh family. And dozens of others might be named, from the voluminous Giraldus Cambrensis to John Owen the Latin epigrammatist, whose interest as authors, however great, is inconsiderable in connection with the story of English letters.

From the Anglo-Norman Conquest of Irelandwhich was both the continuation and the completion of the Norman Conquest of England-there had been much writing from Ireland and about Ireland by Englishmen for a longer or shorter time resident in Ireland, but not much that ranks as literature. Spenser wrote his book on Ireland and most of the Faerie Queene at Kilcolman, his home from 1589 on, but his connection with Ireland is wholly external. Sir John Davies, Sir William Temple, and Sir William Petty were Englishmen who lived for a time in Ireland and wrote about Ireland. Richard Stanyhurst, on the other hand, was born

at Dublin (1547; see page 332) of a family settled in Ireland for three centuries; he was but a feeble forerunner of the glorious company which was in the eighteenth century to include Steele and Swift, Burke and Goldsmith. Stanyhurst's nephew, Archbishop Ussher, is a noble representative of AngloIrish Churchmanship, and was also born in Dublin (1581). Sir John Denham was born (1615) at Dublin, the son of an Irish judge, but was in no other sense an Irishman. But the Hon. Robert Boyle (born at Lismore Castle in 1627) bears the naine of a great Anglo-Irish house. Roger Boyle (page 787), Earl of Cork and dramatist, was also born at Lismore. The Earl of Roscommon was Irish born, but lived most of his life out of Ireland. Tate and Brady both, as well as the dramatists Southerne and Farquhar, were Irishmen born and bred; but their work, like that of other notable Anglo-Irishmen-Swift, Toland, Steele, Parnell, and Berkeley---born before the Revolution, belongs mainly to the next period, and will be dealt with in the next volume. Of the Irish contributors to English literature before the Revolution it may be said generally that though some of them, like Ussher, thoroughly identified themselves with the land of their birth, the Irish tone and temper is rather conspicuous by its absence. The growth of that temper and the beginning of the Irish question are associated with the name of William Molyneux (died 1698), whose Case of Ireland being bound by Acts of Parliament passed in England, published in the same year, and burned by the order of the English House of Commons, marks him as the forerunner of Swift and Grattan.

In the English colonies in North America there was hardly any literature of consequence till about the middle of the eighteenth century. The books of travel, poems, sermons, and the like in the seventeenth century were largely the work of men and women English born, and, except for their change of residence, to all intents and purposes Britons of the native type. Captain John Smith, who toldif he did not also invent-the tale of Pocahontas, was a grown man when in 1605 he joined the Virginia expedition, spent only a small part of his life on American soil, and died in London. But his True Relation of Occurrences in Virginia (1608) ranks as the first book in American literature, though judged from the point of literature it has no great value. In Virginia, George Sandys

(see page 450) completed that translation of Ovid which he dedicated to King Charles I. Richard Ligon in his History of the Barbadoes (1657) furnished the materials out of which Richard Steele spun his famous novelette of Inkle and Yarico; but Ligon was a broken London merchant of sixty when in 1647 he sailed to begin life anew in the West Indies. Roger Williams, though he became heart and soul a colonial, was a Welshman, and was also thirty years of age ere he arrived (1631) on the shores where he was to found the state of Rhode Island, and to be remembered for his vehement discourse against The Bloudy Tenent of Persecution. John Eliot, 'the apostle of the Indians,' who went to America in the same year, was four years younger when he left his native Hertfordshire. Anne Bradstreet (1612-72), 'the first professional poetess of New England,' was a woman grown ere she left her home in Old England. The works of all these authors were sent to England to be published. The Bay Psalm Book, printed at Cambridge in Massachusetts in 1640, was the first book in English that issued from the press in America; it was largely the production of John Eliot and of Richard Mather, a Lancashire Puritan, who emigrated to the colony in 1635, and was father of Increase Mather and grandfather of Cotton Mather.

Such were the slender beginnings of the vast and varied American literature, now one of the two great branches of literature in the English tongue. For well-nigh a century it has uttered the thoughts and feelings of a nation of marked characteristics, of strong originality, in which the English element has been the dominant constituent; and its history must be traced in another volume of this work. Written in English-though English with a difference—the daughter literature in some respects rivals the parent, and has in many ways influenced, both in substance and in form, what is said and sung on the other side of the Atlantic. The people of the United States are now by far the largest section under one government of those who speak English. In America some English books find their widest circle of readers. older English literature is by Americans justly regarded as an inheritance common to them with us; and much helpful work towards the better understanding of the English language and of the triumphs of English letters has been done by American writers and in the United States.

The

D. P.