here is but curds and milk,
And at your Tron but cokill and wilk,
Pansches, puddings, of Jok and Jame.
Think ye not shame
Kin as the world sayis that ilk
In hurt and sklander of your name?"

Thus old Edinburgh rises before us, beautiful and brave as she is no
longer, yet thronged about the Netherbow Port, and up towards the Tron,
the weighing-place and centre of city life, with fishwives and their
stalls, with rough booths for the sale of rougher food, and with country
lasses singing curds and whey, as they still did when Allan Ramsay
nearly four hundred years after succeeded Dunbar as laureate of
Edinburgh. Notwithstanding, however, these defects the Scottish capital
continued to be the home of all delights to the poet-priest. When his
King was absent at Stirling, Dunbar in the pity of his heart sang an
(exceedingly profane) litany for the exile that he might be brought
back, prefacing it by the following compassionate strain:--

"We that are here in Hevinis glory
To you that are in Purgatory
Commendis us on our hairtly wyiss,
I mean we folk in Paradyis,
In Edinburgh with all merriness
To you in Strivilling in distress,
Where neither pleasance nor delyt is,
For pity thus ane Apostle wrytis.

"O ye Heremeitis and Hankersaidillis
That takis your penance at your tabillis,
And eitis nocht meit restorative
Nor drinkis no wyne comfortative
Bot aill, and that is thyn and small,
With few courses into your hall;
But (without) company of lordis or knights
Or any other goodly wightis,
Solitar walkand your allone
Seeing no thing but stok and stone,
Out of your powerfull Purgatory
To bring you to the bliss of glory
Of Edinburgh the merry toun,
We sall begin ane cairfull soun,
And Dirige devout and meik
The Lord of bliss doing besiek
You to delyvre out of your noy
And bring you soon to Edinburgh joy,
For to be merry among us,
And so the Dirige begynis thus."

Many are the poet's addresses to the King in happier circumstances when
James is at home and in full enjoyment of these joys of Edinburgh. His
prayers for a benefice are sometimes grave and sometimes comic, but
never-failing. He describes solicitors (or suitors) at Court, all
pushing their fortune. "Some singis, some dancis, some tells storyis."
Some try to make friends by their devotion, some have their private
advocates in