William Dunbar was perhaps born in 1460 and began his life when James III began his reign.  He was of noble family, but there is little to know about his life, and as with Chaucer, what we learn about the man himself we learn chiefly from his writing.  We know, however, that he went to the University of St. Andrews, and that it was intended that he should go into the Church.  In those days in Scotland there were only two things a gentleman might be - either he must be a soldier or a priest.  Dunbar’s friends, perhaps seeing that he was fond of books, thought it best to make him a priest.  But indeed he had made a better soldier.  For a time, however, although he was quite unsuited for such a life, he became a friar.  As a preaching friar he wandered far.

    “For in every town and place
    Of all England from Berwick to Calais,
    I have in my habit made good cheer. 
    In friar’s weed full fairly have I fleichet,*
    In it have I in pulpit gone and preached,
    In Dernton kirk and eke in Canterbury,
    In it I passed at Dover o’er the ferry
    Through Picardy, and there the people teached.”

    Flattered.

Dunbar himself knew that he had no calling to be a friar or preacher.  He confesses that

    “As long as I did bear the friar’s style
    In me, God wot, was many wrink and wile,
    In me was falseness every wight to flatter,
    Which might be banished by no holy water;
    I was aye ready all men to beguile.”

So after a time we find him no longer a friar, but a courtier.  Soon we find him, like Chaucer, being sent on business to the Continent for his King, James IV.  Like Chaucer he receives pensions; like Chaucer, too, he knows sometimes what it is to be poor, and he has left more than one poem in which he prays the King to remember his old and faithful servant and not leave him in want.  We find him also begging the King for a Church living, for although he had no mind to be a friar, he wanted a living, perhaps merely that he might be sure of a home in his old age.  But for some reason the King never gave him what he asked.  We have nearly ninety poems of Dunbar, none of them very long.  But although he is a far better poet than Barbour, or even perhaps than James I, he is not for you so interesting in the meantime.  First, his language is very hard to understand.  One reason for this is that he knows so many words and uses them all.  “He language had at large,” says one of his fellow poets and countrymen.* And so, although his thought is always clear, it is not always easy to follow it through his strange words.  Second, his charm as a poet lies not so much in what he tells, not so much in his story, as in the way that he tells it.  And so, even if you are already beginning to care for words and the way in which they are used, you may not yet care so much that you can enjoy poetry written in a tongue which, to us is almost a foreign tongue.