English languages were then nearly the same. I mean the style of composition; more especially, in the glaring affectation of Anglicising Latin words."[1]
It is not, however, in the translation that the chief merit lies. The poet has gained much greater praise for the original poetry scattered through the book. To an ordinary reader, the plan of the work may be best described by a reference to the structure of "Marmion," which is decidedly an imitation of it. To every book is prefixed what Douglas calls a prologue, containing some descriptions or observations of his own, and some of which afford delightful glimpses of his personal character and habit*. Those most admired are the prologue to the seventh book, containing a description of winter, that to the twelfth book, containing a description of a summer morning, and that to the thirteenth (supplementary) book, which describes an evening in June. It would appear that the author, iu these and other cases, sought to relax himself from the progressive labour of mere translation, by employing his own poetical powers, on what he saw at the time around him. Mr Warton speaks of Milton's L'Allegro and Il Penseroso as among the earliest descriptive poems produced in England. Whether he be correct or not, we may at least affirm, that Douglas, in his prologues to the books of Virgil, has given Scotland the credit of producing poems of that kind, more than a century earlier.
These compositions being of such importance in Scottish literature, it seems proper in this place to present a specimen sufficient to enable the reader to judge of their value. It is difficult, however, to pitch upon a passage where the merit of the poetry may be obvious enough to induce the reader to take a little trouble in comprehending the language.[2] We have with some hesitation pitched upon the following passage from the prologue to the seventh book, which, as descriptive of nature in a certain aspect, in this country, is certainly very faithful and even picturesque: *****
The firmament owrecast with cludis black:
The ground fadit, and faugh[3] vrox all the field is
Mountane toppis slekit with snaw owre heildis:
On raggit rockis of hard harsh quhyn stane,
With frostyn frontis cald dynty clewis schane:
Bewty was lost, and barrand shew the landis
With froslis hore, owerfret the fieldis standis.
Thick drumly skuggis[4] dirkinit so the hevin,
Dim skyis oft furth warpit fearful levin,[5]
Flaggis[6] of fyre, and mony felloun flaw,
Sharp soppis of sleit and of the swyppand snaw :
The dolly dichis war al douk and wate,
The low vales flodderit all with spate,
The plane stretis and every hie way
Full of fluschis, dubbis, myre, and clay.
*****
Owr craggis and the frontis of rockys sere,
Hang gret yse schokkilis, lang as ony spere:
The grund stude barrane, widderit, dosk, and gray
Herbis, flowris, and gersis wallowit away:
- ↑ History of English Poetry, ii. 281, 2.
- ↑ Well do I recollect, in early days, borrowing old Gavin's translation from a circulating library, in order to steal a sly march upon my class-fellows in version-making. What was my disappointment on finding that the copy was a great deal more unintelligible than the original, and that, in reality, he of St Giles stood more in need of a translator than he of Mantua!
- ↑ Fallow.
- ↑ Shadows.
- ↑ Lightning.
- ↑ Flakes.
