He resided with the earl in France for about five years, and in May 1537 he returned with him to Scotland. "While he was residing at the earl's seat in the country," says his biographer, Dr. Irving, "he composed a little poem which rendered him extremely obnoxious to the ecclesiastics, an order of men whom it is generally hazardous to provoke. In this poem, which bears the title of 'Somnium,' and is a happy imitation of Dunbar, he expresses his own abhorrence of a monastic life, and stigmatizes the impudence and hypocrisy of the Franciscan friars. The holy fathers, when they became acquainted with this specimen of his sarcastic wit, speedily forgot their professions of meekness, and resolved to convince him of his heterodox presumption in disparaging the sacred institutions of the church. It has repeatedly been alleged that Buchanan had himself belonged to a religious order which he has so frequently exposed with the most admirable powers of ridicule; but this seems to have been a tale fabricated by the impotent malice of his theological enemies. That he had actually assumed the cowl, has never been affirmed by any early writer sufficiently acquainted with his history: it is not, however, improbable, that during the convenient season of his youthful misfortunes, the friars were anxious to allure so promising a novice ; and, this suggestion is even countenanced by a passage in one of his poetical productions."

Buchanan had determined to resume his former occupation in France; but King James the Fifth retained him in Scotland in the employment of tutor to his eldest natural son, (by Elizabeth Shaw, of the family of Sauchie,) James Stewart, afterwards the abbot of Kelso, who died in 1548, and not his half brother, the famous earl of Murray, as erroneously stated in several of his memoirs. We learn from the lord high treasurer's accounts, quoted in the Appendix to the first volume of Pitcairn's 'Criminal Trials,' that, August 21, 1537, Buchanan was paid, by order of the king, twenty pounds; and the same sum in July 1538, when he also received a rich gown of Paris black, with a cassock, on occasion of Mary of Guise's public entry into Edinburgh. At the request of the king, to whom the incensed priests had found means of representing him as a man of depraved morals and dubious faith, he wrote his 'Palinodia' and 'Franciscanus,' the latter a powerful and bitter satire against the Franciscan friars. "This production," says Dr. Irving, "as it now appears in its finished state, may without hazard be pronounced the most skilful and pungent satire which any nation or language can exhibit. He has not servilely adhered to the model of any ancient poet, but is himself original and unequalled. To a masterly command of classical phraseology, he unites uncommon felicity of versification; and iris diction often rises with his increasing indignation to majesty and splendour. The combinations of his wit are variegated and original; and lie evinces himself a most sagacious observer of human life. No class of men was ever more completely exposed to ridicule and infamy; nor is it astonishing that the Popish clergy afterwards regarded the author with implacable hatred. The impurities and the absurdities which he rendered so notorious, were not the spontaneous production of a prolific brain; their ignorance and irreligion presented an ample and inviting harvest. Of the validity of his poetical accusations, many historical documents still remain. Buchanan has himself related in plain prose, that about this period, some of the Scottish ecclesiastics were so deplorably ignorant, as to suppose Martin Luther to be the author of a dangerous book, called the New Testament."

The following account and (in, part) only translation yet attempted of this admirable satire is from the pen of an able but anonymous critic, and will not be unacceptable to our readers.

After asking his friend-

"Unde novus rigor in vultu! tristisque severi

Frons caperata minis, tsrdique modestia gressus?

Illaque frenatæ constans custodia linguæ? &c."

He makes him thus reply-

"Oft musing on the ills of human life,

Its buoyant hopes "rind fears, and idle strife,

And joys of hue--how changeful! tho' serene,

That flit ere you can tell where they have been-

(Even as the bark, when ocean's surges sweep.

Rais'd by the warring winds, along the deep,

Is headlong by the howling tempest driven,

While the staid pilot, to whose charge is given.

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