r Thomas
More. Some other facts about him might perhaps be
collected; but his personal history could add little to
the interest of his book, which is its own sufficient
recommendation. It will be evident, from the description
which I have given, that as an antiquarian curiosity this
manuscript is one of the most remarkable of its kind
which survives.

The public, who are willing to pay for the production
of thousands of volumes annually, the value of which
is inappreciable from its littleness, may perhaps not be
unwilling to encourage, to the extent of the purchase of
a small edition, the preservation in print of a relic which,
even in the mere commonplace power of giving amusement,
exceeds the majority of circulating novels: while
readers whose appetites are more discriminating, and the
students of the past, to whom the productions of their
ancestors have a memorial value for themselves, may
find their taste gratified at least with some fragments of
genuine beauty equal to the best extant specimens of
early English poetry.

In the hope of contributing to such a result, I am
going to offer to the readers of Fraser a few
miscellaneous selections from different parts of the volume;
and as in the original they are thrown together without
order--the sacred side by side with the profane; the
devotional, the humorous, and the practical reposing in
placid juxtaposition--I shall not attempt to remedy a
disorder which is itself so characteristic a feature.

Let us commence, then, as a fitting grace before the
banquet, with a song on the Nativity. The spirit which
appears in many of the most beautiful pictures of
mediaeval art is here found taking the form of words:--

Can I not sing Ut Hoy,
When the Jolly shepherd made so much joy.

The shepherd upon a hill he sat,
He had on him his tabard and his hat;
His tar-box, his pipe, and his flat hat,
His name was called Jolly, Jolly Wat,
For he was a good herd's boy,
Ut Hoy,
For in his pipe he made so much joy.

The shepherd upon a hill was laid,
His dogge to his girdle was tied;
He had not slept but a little brayd
When Gloria in Excelsis to him was said.
Ut Hoy!
For in his pipe he made so much joy.

The shepherd upon a hill he stood,
Round about him his sheep they yode;
He put his hand under his hood,
He saw a star as red as blood,
Ut Hoy!
For in his pipe he made so much joy.

Now Farewell, Matt, and also Will,
For my love go ye all still
Unto I come again yo