"A, my dere son, sayd mary, a, my dere,
Kys thi moder, Jhesu, with a lawghyng chere;"
and continues:—
"This endnes nyght I sawe a syght
all in my slepe,
Mary that may she sang lullay
and sore did wepe.
To kepe she sawght full fast a bowte
her son fro cold;
Joseph seyd, wiff, my joy, my leff,
say what ye wolde;
No thyng my spouse is In this howse
unto my pay;
My son a kyng that made all thyng
lyth in hay.
"A, my dere son."
Some of these ancient carols run over the principal incidents in the scheme of man's fall and redemption; and we are sorry that our limits will not permit us to give such lengthened specimens as we should desire. We will, however, copy a few verses from one of a different kind, in which, beneath its ancient dress, our readers will see that there is much rude beauty. It begins:—
"I come from heuin to tell
The best nowellis that ever be fell."
But we must take it up further on:—
"My saull and lyfe, stand up and see
Quha lyes in ane cribe of tree;
Quhat babe is that so gude and faire?
It is Christ, God's Sonne and Aire.
. . . .
O God, that made all creature,
How art thou becum so pure,
That on the hay and straw will lye,
Amang the asses, oxin, and kye?
"And were the world ten tymes so wide,
Cled ouer with gold and stanes of pride,
Unworthy zit it were to thee,
Under thy feet ane stule to bee.
"The sylke and sandell, thee to eis,
Are hay and sempill sweiling clais,
Quhairin thow gloiris, greitest king,
As thow in heuin were in thy ring.
. . . .
"O my deir hert, zoung Jesus sweit,
Prepare thy creddill in my spreit,
And I sall rock thee in my hert,
And neuer mair from thee depart."
The Star-song in this collection is, if our memory mislead us not, Herrick's, and taken from his "Noble Numbers." It begins:—
"Tell us, thou cleere and heavenly tongue,
Where is the babe but lately sprung?
Lies he the lillie-banks among?
"Or say if this new Birth of our's
Sleep, laid within some ark of flowers,
Spangled with deaw-light; thou canst cleere
All doubts, and manifest the where.
"Declare to us, bright star, if we shall seek
Him in the morning's blushing cheek,
Or search the beds of spices through,
To find him out?"
The second part of Sandys's collection contains an imperfect version of a carol of which we find a full and corrected copy in Mr. Hone's "Ancient Mysteries," formed by that author's collation of various copies printed in different places. The beautiful verses which we quote are from Hone's version, and are wanting in that of Sandys. The ballad begins by elevating the Virgin Mary to a temporal rank which must rest upon that particular authority, and is probably a new fact for our readers: