nite : and the extent of his knowledge procured him the appellation of the Universal Doctor. Faustus, the author of some tracts printed in the Maxima Bibliotheca Veterum Patrum, is sufficiently known as a favourer of the Semi-Pelagian doctrines. He died about the year 480. Brunell, it has been conjectured, was a native of Germany, and flourished about the end of the twelfth, or the beginning of the thirteenth century. He composed many Latin poems which have never been published: but his Sententia de Ordinibus Religiosis appears in the collection of Martene and Durand.

The court of the Muses having thus reached the spot where Venus is sitting in judgment,

b Among other works, he wrote a commentary on the prophecies of Merlin. See Prophetia Anglicana et Romana; hoc est Merlini Ambrosië Britanni, ex incubo olim, &c. Francofurti, 1608, 8vo.

c Lilii Gyraldi Historia Poetarum, p.222.

d Cave, Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Historia Literaria, p. 366. e Veterum Scriptorum et Monumentorum Collectio, tom. vi.-The following extract from Brunell's poem may be acceptable to some readers; as it contains a slight contribution to ecclesiastical history.

Est et adhuc alius nuper novus ordo repertus,

Quem benè, nam bonus est, commemorare decet.

Hic apud Anglorum fines exortus, ab ipso

Nomen habet natus quo fuit ipse loco.
Symphinigram dictus, de simplicitate vocatus,
Sive per antiphrasim ordo vocatur ita.
Canonici missas tantùm, reliquumque sorores
Explent, officii debita jura sui.

Corpora, non voces, murus disjungit; in unum

Psallunt directo psalmate et absque mero:

Calliope intercedes so effectually in the poet's behalf, that his crime is pardoned on condition that he shall compose some poem in honour of the goddess whom he has offended. He immediately pours forth an unpremeditated lay; and Venus declares she is satisfied. Her court then departs, and leaves the poet with that of the Muses. Calliope commits him to the charge of "ane sweit nymphe maist faithfull and decoir," and the whole train commences a most miraculous journey.

Ane hors I gat maist richelie besene,

Was harneist all with woodbind leuis grene;

Of the same sute the trappours law doun hang.
Ouir him I straid at command of the quene :
Tho samin furth we riding all bedene

A's swift as thocht, with mony a merie sang,
My nymph alwayis conuoyit me of thrang
Amid the Musis, to se quhat thay wald mene,

Quhilks sang and playit, but neuer a wreist yeid wrang.

They now roam through a great variety of regions: but the poet's account of their flight savours strongly of the incoherence of a dream. They at length reach the Castalian fountain.

Beside that cristall well sweit and digest,
Thame to repois, thair hors refresche and rest,

Alichtit doun thir Musis cleir of hew.

The cumpanie all haillelie leist and best

Thrang to the well to drink, quhilk ran south west

Throw out ane meid quhair alkin flouris grew.

Amang the laif full fast I did persew

To drink, bot sa the greit preis me opprest,
That of the water I micht not taste a drew.

Quir horsis pasturit in ane plesand plane,
Law at the fute of ane fair greene montane,

Amid ane meid schaddowit with ceder treis.
Saif fra all heit thair micht we weil remain :
All kinde of herbis, flouris, frute, and greine,
With eurie growand tre thair men micht cheis.
The beryall streams, rinnand ouir stanerie greis,
Made sober noyis: the schaw dinnit

agane

For birdis sang, and sounding of the beis.

The ladyis fair on diuers instrumentis

Went playand, singand, dansand, ouir the bentis:
Full angellik and heuinlie was their soun.
Quhat creature amid his hart imprintis
The fresche bewetie, the gudelie representis,
The merrie speiche, fair hauing, hie renown,
Of thame, wald set a wise man half in swoun,
Thair womanlines wryithit the elementis,

Stoneist the heuin, and all the eirth adoun.

The warld may not considder nor descriue
The heuinlie joy the blis I saw belive,
Sa ineffable, abone my witt sa hie.
I will na mair thairon my foreheid riue,
Bot briefly furth my febill process drive.
Law in the meid an palyeon picht I se,
Maist gudliest and richest that micht be;
My governour oftner than times fiue

Unto that hald to pass commandit me.

66

Swa finally straicht to that royall steed
In followschip with my leidar I yeid:

We enterit sone, the portar was not thra,
Thair was na stopping, lang demand, nor pleid.
I kneillit law, and unheilded my heid;

And tho I saw our ladyis twa and twa
Sittand on deissis; familiars to and fra
Servand thame fast with ypocras and meid,
Delicate meitis, dainteis seir alswa.

The discourse turning on love and valour, Calliope commands Ovid, her Clerk Register, to declare 'quha war maist worthie of thair handis." The favoured poet then recapitulates the deeds of ancient heroes, and also sings of transfigurations, of the art of love, and of its remedy. He is followed by other bards:

Uprais the greit Virgillius anone,

And playit the sportis of Daphnis and Corydone :
Sine Terence come, and playit the comedy
Of Parmeno, Thrason, and wise Gnatone.
Juuenall like ane mowar him allone

Stude scornand euerie man as thay yeid by.
Martial was cuik, till roist, seith, farce, and fry.
And Poggius stude with mony girne and grone,
On Laurence Valla spittand, and cryand fy!

With mirthis thus and meitis delicate
Thir ladyis feistit according thair estait,

Uprais at last, commandand till tranoynt :
Retreit was blawn loude, and than, God waite,
Men micht have sene swift horsis haldin hait,

Schynand for sweit, as they had bene anoynt.

Of all that rout was neuer a prick disjoynt, For all our tary; and I furth with my mait Mountit on horse, raid samin in gude point.

Ouir mony gudlie plane we raid bedene,
The vaill of Hebron, the camp Damascene,
Throw Josaphat, and throw the lustie vaill;
Ouir waters wan, throw worthie woddis
And swa at last on lifting up our ene,

grene:

We se the final end of our trauail,
Amid ane plane a plesand roche to waill;
And euerie wicht, fra we that sicht had sene,
Thankand greit God, their heidis law deuaill.

With singing, lauching, merines, and play,
Unto this roche we rydand furth the way.

Now mair to write for feir tremblis my pen.
The hart may not think nor mannis toung say,
The eir nocht heir, nor yit the eye se may,
It may not be imaginit with men,

The heuinlie blis the perfite joy to ken,
Quhilk now I saw the hundredth part all day
I micht not schaw, thocht I had toungis ten.

Thocht all my members toungis war on raw,
I war not able the thousand fauld to schaw;
Quhairfoir I feir ocht farther mair to write :
For quhidder I this in saul or bodie saw,
That wait I nocht; bot he that all dois knaw,
The greit God wait, in euerie thing perfite.
Eik gif I wald this auisioun indite,

Jangleris suld it backbite and stand nane aw,

Cry out on dreimis quhilks are not worth ane mite.