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30. The Thistle and the Rose
Quhen Merche wes with variand windis past,
And Appryll had with hir silver schouris
Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast,
And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,
Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris
Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,
Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt,
In bed at morrow sleiping as I lay,
Me thocht Aurora with hir cristall ene
In at the window lukit by the day
And halsit me, with visage paill and grene,
On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene:
"Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering;
Se how the lusty morrow dois up spring!"
Me thocht fresche May befoir my bed upstude
In weid depaynt of mony divers hew,
Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude,
In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new,
Hevinly of color, quhyt, reid, broun, and blew,
Balmit in dew and gilt with Phebus bemys
Quhill all the hous illumynit of hir lemys.
"Slugird," scho said, "Awalk annone, for schame,
And in my honour sumthing thow go wryt;
The lork hes done the mirry day proclame
To rais up luvaris with confort and delyt,
Yit nocht incress thy curage to indyt,
Quhois hairt sumtyme hes glaid and blisfull bene
Sangis to mak undir the levis grene."
"Quhairto," quod I, "Sall I uprys at morrow,
For in this May few birdis herd I sing?
Thai haif moir caus to weip and plane thair sorrow,
Thy air it is nocht holsum nor benyng;
Lord Eolus dois in thy sessone ring;
So busteous ar the blastis of his horne,
Amang thy bewis to walk I haif forborne."
With that this lady sobirly did smyll
And said, "Uprys and do thy observance;
Thow did promyt in Mayis lusty quhyle
For to discryve the ros of most plesance.
Go se the birdis how thay sing and dance,
Illumynit our with orient skyis brycht
Annamyllit richely with new asur lycht."
Quhen this wes said depairtit scho, this quene,
And enterit in a lusty gairding gent.
And than, me thocht, sa listely besene
In serk and mantill, full haistely I went
Into this garth, most dulce and redolent
Of herb and flour and tendir plantis sueit
And grene levis doing of dew doun fleit.
The purpour sone with tendir bemys reid
In orient bricht as angell did appeir,
Throw goldin skyis putting up his heid,
Quhois gilt tressis schone so wondir cleir
That all the world tuke confort, fer and neir,
To luke upone his fresche and blisfull face,
Doing all sable fro the hevynnis chace.
And as the blisfull soune of cherarchy,
The fowlis song throw confort of the licht;
The birdis did with oppin vocis cry,
"O luvaris fo, away thow dully nycht,
And welcum day that confortis every wicht;
Haill May, haill Flora, haill Aurora schene!
Haill princes Natur, haill Venus luvis quene!"
Dame Nature gaif ane inhibitioun thair
To fers Neptunus and Eolus the bawld
Nocht to perturb the wattir nor the air,
And that no schouris scharp nor blastis cawld
Effray suld flouris nor fowlis on the fold;
Scho bad eik Juno, goddas of the sky,
That scho the hevin suld keip amene and dry.
Scho ordand eik that every bird and beist
Befoir hir hienes suld annone compeir,
And every flour of vertew, most and leist,
And every herb be feild, fer and neir,
As thay had wont in May fro yeir to yeir
To hir thair makar to mak obediens,
Full law inclynnand with all dew reverens.
With that annone scho send the swyfte ro
To bring in beistis of all conditioun;
The restles swallow commandit scho also
To seche all fowll of small and greit renown;
And to gar flouris compeir of all fassoun,
Full craftely conjurit scho the yarrow,
Quhilk did furth swirk als swift as ony arrow.
All present wer in twynkling of ane e,
Baith beist and bird and flour, befoir the quene.
And first the lyone, gretast of degré,
Was callid thair, and he most fair to sene,
With a full hardy contenance and kene,
Befoir Dame Natur come and did inclyne,
With visage bawld and curage leonyne.
This awfull beist full terrible wes of cheir,
Persing of luke and stout of countenance,
Rycht strong of corpis, of fassoun fair but feir,
Lusty of schaip, lycht of deliverance,
Reid of his cullour as is the ruby glance;
On feild of gold he stude full mychtely
With flour delycis sirculit lustely.
This lady liftit up his cluvis cleir,
And leit him listly lene upone hir kne;
And crownit him with dyademe full deir,
Of radyous stonis most ryall for to se,
Saying, "The king of beistis mak I thee,
And the chief protector in the woddis and schawis.
Onto thi leigis go furth, and keip the lawis.
"Exerce justice with mercy and conscience,
And lat no small beist suffir skaith na skornis
Of greit beistis that bene of moir piscence.
Do law elyk to aipis and unicornis,
And lat no bowgle with his busteous hornis
The meik pluch ox oppres for all his pryd,
Bot in the yok go peciable him besyd."
Quhen this was said, with noyis and soun of joy
All kynd of beistis into thair degré
At onis cryit lawd, "Vive le roy!"
And till his feit fell with humilité,
And all thay maid him homege and fewté;
And he did thame ressaif with princely laitis,
Quhois noble yre is parcere prostratis.5
Syne crownit scho the Egle, king of fowlis,
And as steill dertis scherpit scho his pennis,
And bawd him be als just to awppis and owlis
As unto pacokkis, papingais, or crennis,
And mak a law for wycht fowlis and for wrennis,
And lat no fowll of ravyne do efferay,
Nor devoir birdis bot his awin pray.
Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild,
Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris;
Upone the awfull Thrissill scho beheld
And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris.
Concedring him so able for the weiris,
A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif
And said, "In feild go furth and fend the laif.
"And sen thow art a king, thow be discreit;
Herb without vertew hald nocht of sic pryce
As herb of vertew and of odor sueit;
And lat no nettill vyle and full of vyce
Hir fallow to the gudly flour delyce,
Nor latt no wyld weid full of churlichenes
Compair hir till the lilleis nobilnes;
"Nor hald non udir flour in sic denty
As the fresche Ros of cullour reid and quhyt;
For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty,
Conciddering that no flour is so perfyt,
So full of vertew, plesans, and delyt,
So full of blisfull angelik bewty,
Imperiall birth, honour, and dignité."
Than to the Ros scho turnyt hir visage
And said, "O lusty dochtir most benyng,
Aboif the lilly illustare of lynnage,
Fro the stok ryell rysing fresche and ying,
But ony spot or macull doing spring,
Cum, blowme of joy, with jemis to be cround,
For our the laif thy bewty is renownd."
A coistly croun with clarefeid stonis brycht
This cumly quene did on hir heid inclois,
Quhill all the land illumynit of the licht;
Quhairfoir me thocht all flouris did rejos,
Crying attonis, "Haill be thow richest Ros,
Haill hairbis empryce, haill freschest quene of flouris!
To thee be glory and honour at all houris!"
Thane all the birdis song with voce on hicht,
Quhois mirthfull soun wes mervelus to heir.
The mavys song, "Haill, Rois most riche and richt,
That dois up flureis undir Phebus speir;
Haill plant of yowth, haill princes dochtir deir;
Haill blosome breking out of the blud royall,
Quhois pretius vertew is imperiall!"
The merle scho sang, "Haill, Rois of most delyt,
Haill of all flouris quene and soverane!"
The lark scho song, "Haill, Rois both reid and quhyt,
Most plesand flour of michty cullouris twane!"
The nychtingaill song, "Haill, Naturis suffragene,
In bewty, nurtour, and every nobilnes,
In riche array, renown, and gentilnes!"
The commoun voce uprais of birdis small
Apone this wys: "O blissit be the hour
That thow wes chosin to be our principall;
Welcome to be our princes of honour,
Our perle, our plesans, and our paramour,
Our peax, our play, our plane felicité:
Chryst thee conserf frome all adversité!"
Than all the birdis song with sic a schout
That I annone awoilk quhair that I lay,
And with a braid I turnyt me about
To se this court, bot all wer went away.
Than up I lenyt, halflingis in affrey,
And thus I wret, as ye haif hard toforrow,
Of lusty May upone the nynt morrow.
31. To Princess Margaret
[Welcum of Scotlond to be quene]
Now fayre, fayrest of every fayre,
Princes most plesant and preclare,
The lustyest one alyve that byne:
Welcum of Scotlond to be quene!
Younge tender plant of pulcritud
Descendyd of imperyalle blode,
Fresche fragrant floure of fayrehede shene:
Welcum of Scotlond to be quene!
Swet lusty lusum lady clere,
Most myghty kyngis dochter dere,
Borne of a princes most serene:
Welcum of Scotlond to be quene!
Welcum the rose bothe rede and whyte,
Welcum the floure of our delyte,
Oure spreit rejoysyng frome the sone beme:
Welcum of Scotlond to be quene!
Welcum of Scotlonde to be quene!
32. To Princess Margaret
[Gladethe, thoue queyne of Scottis regioun]
Gladethe, thoue queyne of Scottis regioun,
Ying tendir plaunt of plesand pulcritude,
Fresche flour of youthe, new germyng to burgeoun,
Our perle of price, our princes fair and gud,
Our charbunkle chosin of hye imperiale blud,
Our rois riale most reverent under croune,
Joy be and grace onto thi selcitud:
Gladethe, thoue queyne of Scottis regioun.
O hye triumphing peradis of joy,
Lodsteir and lamp of every lustines;
Of port surmounting Pollexen of Troy,
Dochtir to Pallas in angillik brichtnes,
Mastres of nurtur and of nobilnes,
Of fresch depictour princes and patroun,
O hevin in erthe of ferlifull suetnes:
Gladethe, thoue queyne of Scottis regioune.
Of thi fair fegour Natur micht rejoys
That so thee kervit withe all hir curiys slicht.
Sche has thee maid this verray wairldis chois,
Schawing one thee hir craftis and hir micht,
To se quhow fair sche couthe depant a wicht,
Quhow gud, how noble of all condicioun,
Quhow womanly in every mannis sicht:
Gladethe, thoue queyne of Scottis regioun.
Rois red and quhit, resplendent of colour,
New of thi knop at morrow fresche atyrit
One stalk yet grene, O yong and tendir flour
That with thi luff has ale this regioun firit,
Gret Gode us graunt that we have long desirit -
A plaunt to spring of thi successioun,
Syne witht ale grace His spreit to be inspirit:
Gladethe, thoue queyne of Scottis regioun.
O precius Margreit, pleasand, cleir and quhit,
Moir blitht and bricht na is the beriale schene,
Moir deir na is the diamaunt of delit,
Moir semly na is the sapheir one to seyne,
Moir gudely eik na is the emerant greyne,
Moir riche na is the ruby of renowne,
Fair gem of joy, Margreit, of thee I meyne:
Gladethe, thoue queyne of Scottis regioun.
33. To Aberdeen
[Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein]
Blyth Aberdeane, thow beriall of all tounis,
The lamp of bewtie, bountie, and blythnes,
Unto the heaven upheyt thy renoun is,
Of vertew, wisdome, and of worthines;
He nottit is thy name of nobilnes.
Into the cuming of oure lustie quein,
The wall of welth, guid cheir, and mirrines:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.
And first hir mett the burges of the toun,
Richelie arrayit, as become thame to be,
Of quhom they cheset four men of renoun
In gounes of velvot, young, abill, and lustie,
To beir the paill of velves cramase
Abone hir heid, as the custome hes bein.
Gryt was the sound of the artelyie:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.
Ane fair processioun mett hir at the port,
In a cap of gold and silk full pleasantlie,
Syne at hir entrie with many fair disport
Ressaveit hir on streittis lustilie;
Quhair first the salutatioun honorabilly
Of the sweitt Virgin guidlie mycht be seine,
The sound of menstraillis blawing to the sky:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.
And syne thow gart the orient kingis thrie
Offer to Chryst with benyng reverence
Gold, sence, and mir with all humilitie
Schawand Him king with most magnificence;
Syne quhow the angill, with sword of violence,
Furth of the joy of Paradice putt clein
Adame and Ev for innobedience:
Be blyth and blisfull, burcht of Aberdein.
And syne the Bruce, that evir was bold in stour,
Thow gart as roy cum rydand under croun,
Richt awfull, strang, and large of portratour,
As nobill, dreidfull, michtie campioun.
The royall Stewartis syne, of great renoun,
Thow gart upspring, with branches new and greine,
Sa gloriouslie quhill glaidid all the toun:
Be blyth and blisfull, burcht of Aberdein.
Syne come thair four and tuentie madinis ying,
All claid in greine, of mervelous bewtie,
With hair detressit, as threidis of gold did hing,
With quhyt hattis all browderit rycht bravelie,
Playand on timberallis and singand rycht sweitlie.
That seimlie sort in ordour weill besein
Did meit the quein, hir halsand reverentlie:
Be blyth and blisfull, burcht of Aberdein.
The streittis war all hung with tapestrie;
Great was the pres of peopill dwelt about,
And pleasant padgeanes playit prattelie.
The legeis all did to thair lady loutt,
Quha was convoyed with ane royall routt
Of gryt barrounes and lustie ladyis schene.
"Welcum, our quein!" the commones gaif ane schout:
Be blyth and blisfull, burcht of Aberdein.
At hir cuming great was the mirth and joy,
For at thair croce aboundantlie rane wyne.
Untill hir ludgeing the toun did hir convoy;
Hir for to treit thai sett thair haill ingyne.
Ane riche present thai did till hir propyne,
Ane costlie coup that large thing wald contene,
Coverit and full of cunyeitt gold rycht fyne:
Be blyth and blisfull, burcht of Aberdein.
O potent princes, pleasant and preclair,
Great caus thow hes to thank this nobill toun,
That for to do thee honnour did not spair
Thair geir, riches, substance, and persoun,
Thee to ressave on maist fair fasoun.
Thee for to pleis thai socht all way and mein.
Thairfoir sa lang as quein thow beiris croun,
Be thankfull to this burcht of Aberdein.
34. To the Queen
[Devoyd languor and leif in lustines]
O lusty flour of yowth, benyng and bricht,
Fresch blome of bewty, blythfull, brycht and schene,
Fair lufsum lady, gentill and discret,
Yung brekand blosum yit on the stalkis grene,
Delytsum lilly, lusty for to be sene:
Be glaid in hairt and expell havines.
Bair of blis, that evir so blyth hes bene,
Devoyd langour and leif in lustiness.
Brycht sterne at morrow that dois the nycht hyn chace,
Of luvis lychtsum day the lyfe and gyd,
Lat no dirk clud absent fro us thy face,
Nor lat no sable frome us thy bewty hyd,
That hes no confort quhair that we go or ryd,
Bot to behald the beme of thi brychtnes;
Baneis all baill and into blis abyd,
Devoyd languor and leif in lustines.
Art thow plesand, lusty, yoing, and fair,
Full of all vertew and gud conditioun,
Rycht nobill of blud, rycht wyis and debonair,
Honorable, gentill, and faythfull of renoun,
Liberall, lufsum, and lusty of persoun.
Quhy suld thow than lat sadnes thee oppres?
In hairt be blyth and lay all dolour doun,
Devoyd languor and leif in lustines.
I me commend with all humilitie
Unto thi bewty blisfull and bening,
To quhome I am and sall ay servand be
With steidfast hairt and faythfull trew mening
Unto the deid without depairting.
For quhais saik I sall my pen addres,
Sangis to mak for thy reconforting,
That thow may leif in joy and lustines.
O fair sweit blossum, now in bewty flouris,
Unfaidit bayth of cullour and vertew,
Thy nobill lord that deid hes done devoir,
Faid nocht with weping thy vissage fair of hew.
O lufsum lusty lady, wyse and trew,
Cast out all cair and comfort do incres.
Exyll all sichand, on thy servand rew.
Devoyd languor and lef in lustines.
35. Eulogy to Bernard Stewart, Lord of Aubigny
[Withe glorie and honour]
Renownit, ryall, right reverend, and serene,
Lord hie tryumphing in wirschip and valoure,
Fro kyngis downe most Cristin knight and kene,
Most wyse, most valyand, moste laureat hie victour,
Onto the sterris upheyt is thyne honour.
In Scotland welcum be thyne excellence
To king, queyne, lord, clerk, knight, and servatour,
Withe glorie and honour, lawde and reverence.
Welcum, in stour most strong, incomparable knight,
The fame of armys and floure of vassalage,
Welcum, in were moste worthi, wyse, and wight,
Welcum, the soun of Mars of moste curage,
Welcum, moste lusti branche of our linnage,
In every realme oure scheild and our defence,
Welcum, our tendir blude of hie parage,
With glorie and honour, lawde and reverence.
Welcum, in were the secund Julius,
The prince of knightheyd and flour of chevalry,
Welcum, most valyeant and victorius,
Welcum, invincible victour moste wourthy,
Welcum, our Scottis chiftane most dughti,
Wyth sowne of clarioun, organe, song, and sence.
To thee atonis, lord, "Welcum!" all we cry,
With glorie and honour, lawde and reverence.
Welcum, oure indeficient adjutorie,
That evir our naceoun helpit in thare neyd,
That never saw Scot yit indigent nor sory
Bot thou did hym suport with thi gud deid.
Welcum, therfor, abufe all livand leyd,
Withe us to live and to maik recidence,
Quhilk never sall sunye for thi saik to bleid,
To quham be honour, lawde, and reverence.
Is none of Scotland borne fathfull and kynde
Bot he of naturall inclinacioune
Dois favour thee withe all his hert and mynde,
Withe fervent, tendir, trew intencioun,
And wald of inwart hie effectioun
But dreyd of danger de in thi defence,
Or dethe or schame war done to thi persoun,
To quham be honour, lawde, and reverence.
Welcum, thow knight moste fortunable in feild,
Welcum, in armis moste aunterus and able
Undir the soun that beris helme or scheild,
Welcum, thow campioun in feght unourcumable,
Welcum, most dughti, digne, and honorable,
And moist of lawde and hie magnificence
Nixt undir kingis to stand incomparable,
To quham be honour, lawde, and reverence.
Throw Scotland, Ingland, France, and Lumbardy
Fleys on weyng thi fame and thi renoune,
And our all cuntreis undirnethe the sky
And our all strandis fro the sterris doune.
In every province, land, and regioune,
Proclamit is thi name of excellence
In every ceté, village, and in toune,
Withe glorie and honour, lawd and reverence.
O feyrse Achill in furius hie curage,
O strong invincible Hector undir scheild,
O vailyeant Arthur in knyghtli vassalage,
Agamenon in governance of feild,
Bold Henniball in batall to do beild,
Julius in jupert, in wisdom and expence,
Most fortunate chiftane bothe in yhouth and eild,
To thee be honour, lawde, and reverence.
At parlament thow suld be hye renownit,
That did so mony victoryse opteyn.
Thi cristall helme withe lawry suld be crownyt,
And in thi hand a branche of olyve greyn.
The sueird of conquis and of knyghtheid keyn
Be borne suld highe before thee in presence,
To represent sic man as thou has beyn,
With glorie and honour, lawde and reverence.
Hie furius Mars, the god armipotent,
Rong in the hevin at thyne nativité.
Saturnus doune withe fyry eyn did blent
Throw bludy visar men manasing to gar de.
On thee fresche Venus keist hir amourouse e,
On thee Marcurius furtheyet his eloquence.
Fortuna maior did turn hir face on thee,
Wyth glorie and honour, lawde and reverence.
Prynce of fredom and flour of gentilnes,
Sweyrd of knightheid and choise of chevalry,
This tyme I lefe, for grete prolixitnes,
To tell quhat feildis thow wan in Pikkardy,
In France, in Bertan, in Naplis and Lumbardy,
As I think eftir withe all my diligence,
Or thow departe, at lengthe for to discry,
With glorie and honour, lawd and reverence.
B in thi name betaknis batalrus,
A able in feild, R right renoune most hie,
N nobilnes, and A for aunterus,
R ryall blude, for dughtines is D,
V valyeantnes, S for strenewité:
Quhoise knyghtli name so schynyng in clemencé
For wourthines in gold suld writtin be,
With glorie and honour, lawd and reverence.
36. Elegy for Bernard Stewart, Lord of Aubigny
[Sen he is gon, the flour of chevalrie]
Illuster Lodovick, of France most Cristin king,
Thow may complain with sighis lamentable
The death of Bernard Stewart, nobill and ding,
In deid of armes most anterous and abill,
Most mychti, wyse, worthie, and confortable
Thy men of weir to governe and to gy.
For him, allace, now may thow weir the sabill,
Sen he is gon, the flour of chevelrie.
Complaine sould everie noble valiant knycht
The death of him that douchtie was in deid,
That many ane fo in feild hes put to flight,
In weris wicht be wisdome and manheid.
To the Turkas sey all land did his name dreid,
Quhois force all France in fame did magnifie.
Of so hie price sall nane his place posseid,
For he is gon, the flour of chevilrie.
O duilfull death, O dragon dolorous!
Quhy hes thow done so dulfullie devoir
The prince of knychtheid, nobill and chevilrous,
The witt of weiris, of armes and honour,
The crop of curage, the strenth of armes in stour,
The fame of France, the fame of Lumbardy,
The chois of chiftanes, most awfull in airmour,
The charbuckell, cheif of every chevelrie?
Pray now for him all that him loveit heir,
And for his saull mak intercessioun
Unto the Lord that hes him bocht so deir,
To gif him mercie and remissioun.
And namelie, we of Scottis natioun,
Intill his lyff quhome most he did affy,
Forgett we nevir into our orisoun
To pray for him, the flour of chavelrie.
37. To the King
[In hansill of this guid New Yeir]
My prince in God, gif thee guid grace,
Joy, glaidnes, confort, and solace,
Play, pleasance, myrth, and mirrie cheir
In hansill of this guid New Yeir.
God gif to thee ane blissed chance,
And of all vertew aboundance,
And grace ay for to perseveir
In hansill of this guid New Yeir.
God give thee guid prosperitie,
Fair fortoun and felicitie,
Evirmair in earth quhill thow ar heir,
In hansell of this guid New Yeir.
The heavinlie Lord His help thee send
Thy realme to reull and to defend,
In peace and justice it to steir,
In hansell of this guid New Yeir.
God gif thee blis quharevir thow bownes,
And send thee many Fraunce crownes,
Hie liberall heart, and handis not sweir,
In hansell of this guid New Yeir.
38. To the King
[God gif ye war Johne Thomsounis man]
Schir, for your grace bayth nicht and day
Richt hartlie on my kneis I pray
With all devotioun that I can:
God gif ye war Johne Thomsounis man!
For war it so, than weill war me.
But benefice I wald nocht be,
My hard fortoun wer endit than:
God gif ye war Johne Thomsounis man!
Than wald sum reuth within yow rest
For saik of hir, fairest and best
In Bartane sen hir tyme began:
God gif ye war Johne Thomsounis man.
For it micht hurt in no degré
That on so fair and gude as sche
Throw hir vertew sic wirschip wan
Als yow to mak Johne Thomsounis man.
I wald gif all that ever I have
To that conditioun, sa God me saif,
That ye had vowit to the swan
Ane yeir to be Johne Thomsounis man.
The mersy of that sweit meik Rose
Suld soft yow, Thirsill, I suppois,
Quhois pykis throw me so reuthles ran:
God gif ye war Johne Thomounis man!
My advocat, bayth fair and sweit,
The hale rejosing of my spreit,
Wald speid into my erand than,
And ye war anis Johne Thomsounis man.
Ever quhen I think yow harde or dour
Or mercyles in my succour,
Than pray I God and sweit Sanct An,
Gif that ye war Johne Thomsounis man.
39. To the King
[My panefull purs so priclis me]
Sanct Salvatour, send silver sorrow!
It grevis me both evin and morrow,
Chasing fra me all cheritie.
It makis me all blythnes to borrow,
My panefull purs so priclis me.
Quhen I wald blythlie ballattis breif,
Langour thairto givis me no leif.
War nocht gud howp my hart uphie,
My verry corpis for cair wald cleif,
My panefull purs so prikillis me.
Quhen I sett me to sing or dance,
Or go to plesand pastance,
Than pansing of penuritie
Revis that fra my remembrance,
My panefull purs so prikillis me.
Quhen men that hes pursis in tone
Pasis to drynk or to disjone,
Than mon I keip ane gravetie
And say that I will fast quhill none,
My panefull purs so priclis me.
My purs is maid of sic ane skyn
Thair will na cors byd it within -
Fra it as fra the Feynd thay fle!
Quhaevir tyne, quhaevir win,
My panefull purs so priclis me.
Had I ane man of ony natioun
Culd mak on it ane conjuratioun
To gar silver ay in it be,
The Devill suld haif no dominatioun
With pyne to gar it prickill me.
I haif inquyrit in mony a place
For help and confort in this cace,
And all men sayis, my lord, that ye
Can best remeid for this malice
That with sic panis prickillis me.
40. To the King
[Schir, at this feist of benefice]
Schir, at this feist of benefice
Think that small partis makis grit service,
And equale distributioun
Makis thame content that hes ressoun,
And quha hes nane ar plesit na wyis.
Schir, quhiddir is it mereit mair?
To gif him drink that thristis sair,
Or fill a fow man quhill he birst,
And lat his fallow de a thrist,
Quhilk wyne to drynk als worthie war?
It is no glaid collatioun
Quhair ane makis myrrie, aneuther lukis doun,
Ane thristis, aneuther playis cop out.
Lat anis the cop ga round about,
And wyn the covanis banesoun.
41. To the King
[Of benefice, sir, at everie feist]
Of benefice, sir, at everie feist,
Quha monyast hes makis maist requeist.
Get thai not all, thai think ye wrang thame.
Ay is the ovirword of the geist,
Giff thame the pelffe to pairt among thame.
Sum swelleis swan, sum swelleis duke,
And I stand fastand in a nuke
Quhill the effect of all thai fang thame.6
Bot Lord! how petewouslie I luke
Quhone all the pelfe thai pairt amang thame.
Of sic hie feistis of sanctis in glorie,
Baithe of commoun and propir storie,
Quhair lairdis war patronis, oft I sang thame
Charitas, pro Dei amore;
And yit I gat na thing amang thame.
This blynd warld ever so payis his dett,
Riche befoir pure spraidis ay thair nett -
To fische al watiris dois belang thame.
Quha nathing hes can nathing gett,
Bot ay as syphir sett amang thame.
Swa thai the kirk have in thair cure,
Thai fors bot litill how it fure,
Nor of the buikis or bellis quha rang thame.
Thai pans not of the prochin pure,
Hed thai the pelfe to pairt amang thame.
So warryit is this warldis rent
That nane thairof can be content,
Of deathe quhill that the dragoun stang thame.
Quha maist hes than sall maist repent,
With largest compt to pairt amang thame.
42. A Dream
This hinder nycht, halff sleiping as I lay,
Me thocht my chalmer in ane new aray
Was all depent with many divers hew
Of all the nobill storyis, ald and new,
Sen oure first father formed was of clay.
Me thocht the lift all bricht with lampis lycht,
And thairin enterrit many lustie wicht,
Sum young, sum old, in sindry wyse arayit.
Sum sang, sum danceit, on instrumentis sum playit,
Sum maid disportis with hartis glaid and lycht.
Thane thocht I thus, "This is an felloun phary,
Or ellis my witt rycht woundrouslie dois varie.
This seimes to me ane guidlie companie,
And gif it be ane feindlie fantasie,
Defend me, Jhesu and his moder Marie!"
Thair pleasant sang, nor yett thair pleasant toun,
Nor yett thair joy, did to my heart redoun.
Me thocht the drerie damiesall Distres,
And eik hir sorie sister Hivines,
Sad as the leid in baid lay me abone.
And Langour satt up at my beddis heid.
With instrument full lamentable and deid
Scho playit sangis so duilfull to heir,
Me thocht ane houre seimeit ay ane yeir;
Hir hew was wan and wallowed as the leid.
Thane com the ladyis danceing in ane trece,
And Nobilnes befoir thame come ane space,
Saying withe cheir, bening and womanly,
"I se ane heir in bed oppressit ly.
My sisteris, go and help to gett him grace."
With that anon did start out of a dance
Twa sisteris callit Confort and Pleasance,
And with twa harpis did begin to sing.
Bot I thairof mycht tak na rejoseing,
My heavines opprest me with sic mischance.
Thay saw that I not glader wox of cheir,
And thairof had thai winder all, but weir,
And said ane lady that Persaveing hecht,
"Of hevines he fiellis sic a wecht
Your melody he pleisis not till heir.
"Scho and Distres hir sister dois him greve."
Quod Nobilnes, "Quhow sall he thame eschew?"
Thane spak Discretioun, ane lady richt bening,
"Wirk eftir me and I sall gar him sing,
And lang or nicht gar Langar tak hir leve."
And then said Witt, "Gif thai work not be thee,
But onie dout thai sall not work be me."
Discretioun said, "I knaw his malady.
The strok he feillis of melancholie,
And, Nobilnes, his lecheing lyis in thee.
"Or evir this wicht at heart be haill and feir,
Both thow and I most in the court appeir,
For he hes lang maid service thair in vane.
With sum rewaird we mane him quyt againe,
Now in the honour of this guid New Yeir."
"Weill worth thee, sister," said Considerance,
And I sall help for to mantene the dance."
Thane spak ane wicht callit Blind Effectioun:
"I sall befoir yow be with myne electioun;
Of all the court I have the governance."
Thane spak ane constant wycht callit Ressoun,
And said, "I grant yow hes beine lord a sessioun
In distributioun, bot now the tyme is gone.
Now I may all distribute myne alone.
Thy wrangous deidis did evir mane enschesoun.
"For tyme war now that this mane had sumthing,
That lange hes bene ane servand to the king,
And all his tyme nevir flatter couthe nor faine,
Bot humblie into ballat wyse complaine
And patientlie indure his tormenting.
"I counsall him be mirrie and jocound.
Be Nobilnes his help mon first be found."
"Weill spokin, Ressoun my brother," quoth Discretioun;
"To sett on dies with lordis at the Cessioun
Into this realme yow war worth mony ane pound."
Thane spak anone Inoportunitie:
"Ye sall not gar him speid without me,
For I stand ay befoir the kingis face.
I sall him deiff or ellis myself mak hace,
Bot gif that I befoir him servit be.
"Ane besy askar soonner sall he speid
Na sall twa besy servandis out of dreid,
And he that askis not tynes bot his word,
Bot for to tyne lang service is no bourd,
Yett thocht I nevir to do sic folie deid."
Thane com anon ane callit Schir Johne Kirkpakar,
Of many cures ane michtie undertaker.
Quod he, "I am possest in kirkis sevin,
And yitt I think thai grow sall till ellevin
Or he be servit in ane, yone ballet maker.
And then Schir Bet-the-Kirk, "Sa mot I thryff,
I haif of busie servandis foure or fyve,
And all direct unto sindrie steidis,
Ay still awaitting upoun kirkmenes deidis,
Fra quham sum tithingis will I heir belyff."
Quod Ressoun than, "The ballance gois unevin
That thow, allece, to serff hes kirkis sevin,
And sevin als worth kirk not haifand ane.
With gredines I sie this world ourgane,
And sufficience dwellis not bot in Heavin."
"I have not wyt thairof," quod Temperance,
"For thocht I hald him evinlie the ballance
And but ane cuir full micht till him wey,
Yett will he tak aneuther and gar it suey.
Quha best can rewll wald maist have governance."
Patience to me, "My freind," said, "Mak guid cheir,
And on the prince depend with humelie feir.
For I full weill dois knaw his nobill intent:
He wald not, for ane bischopperikis rent,
That yow war unrewairdit half ane yeir."
Than as an fary thai to duir did frak,
And schot ane gone that did so ruidlie rak
Quhill all the aird did raird the ranebow under.
On Leith sandis me thocht scho brak in sounder,
And I anon did walkin with the crak.
43. The Headache
My heid did yak yester nicht,
This day to mak that I na micht.
So sair the magryme dois me menyie,
Perseing my brow as ony ganyie,
That scant I luik may on the licht.
And now, schir, laitlie eftir mes
To dyt thocht I begowthe to dres,
The sentence lay full evill till find,
Unsleipit in my heid behind,
Dullit in dulnes and distres.
Full oft at morrow I upryse
Quhen that my curage sleipeing lyis.
For mirth, for menstrallie and play,
For din nor danceing nor deray,
It will not walkin me no wise.
44. To the King
[For to considder is ane pane]
This waverand warldis wretchidnes,
The failyeand and frutles bissines,
The mispent tyme, the service vane,
For to considder is ane pane.
The slydand joy, the glaidnes schort,
The feynyeid luif, the fals confort,
The sweit abayd, the slichtfull trane,
For to considder is ane pane.
The sugurit mouthis with myndis thairfra,
The figurit speiche with faceis tua,
The plesand toungis with hartis unplane,
For to considder is ane pane.
The labour lost and liell service,
The lang availl on humill wyse,
And the lytill rewarde agane,
For to considder is ane pane.
Nocht, I say, all be this cuntré,
France, Ingland, Ireland, Almanie,
Bot als be Italie and Spane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
The change of warld fro weill to wo,
The honourable use is all ago
In hall and bour, in burgh and plane,
For to considder is ane pane.
Beleif dois liep, traist dois nocht tarie,
Office dois flit and courtis dois vary,
Purpos dois change as wynd or rane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
Gud rewle is banist our the bordour
And rangat ringis but ony ordour
With reird of rebaldis and of swane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
The pepill so wickit ar of feiris,
The frutles erde all witnes beiris,
The ayr infectit and prophane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
The temporale stait to gryp and gather,
The sone disheris wald the father
And as ane dyvour wald him demane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
Kirkmen so halie ar and gude
That on thair conscience, rowme and rude,
May turne aucht oxin and ane wane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
I knaw nocht how the Kirk is gydit,
Bot beneficis ar nocht leill devydit.
Sum men hes sevin and I nocht ane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
And sum unworthy to browk ane stall
Wald clym to be ane cardinall -
Ane bischoprik may nocht him gane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
Unwourthy I, amang the laif,
Ane kirk dois craif and nane can have.
Sum with ane thraif playis passage plane,7
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
It cumis be king, it cumis be quene,
Bot ay sic space is us betwene
That nane can schut it with ane flane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
It micht have cuming in schortar quhyll
Fra Calyecot and the New Fund Yle,
The partis of transmeridiane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
It micht be this, had it bein kynd,
Cuming out of the desertis of Ynde8
Our all the grit se oceane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane
It micht have cuming out of all ayrtis -
Fra Paris and the orient partis,
And fra the ylis of Aphrycane,
Quhilk to consydder is ane pane.
It is so lang in cuming me till,
I dreid that it be quyt gane will,
Or bakwart it is turnit agane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
Upon the heid of it is hecht
Bayth unicornis and crownis of wecht.
Quhen it dois cum, all men dois frane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
I wait it is for me provydit,
Bot sa done tyrsum it is to byd it,
It breikis my hairt and birstis my brane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
Greit abbais grayth I nill to gather
Bot ane kirk scant coverit with hadder,
For I of lytill wald be fane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
And for my curis in sindrie place,
With help, schir, of your nobill grace,
My sillie saule sall never be slane,
Na for sic syn to suffer pane.
Experience dois me so inspyr,
Of this fals failyeand warld I tyre,
That evermore flytis lyk ane phane,
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.
The foremest hoip yit that I have
In all this warld, sa God me save,
Is in your grace, bayth crop and grayne,
Quhilk is ane lessing of my pane.
45. Against the Solicitors at Court
Be divers wyis and operatiounes
Men makis in court thair solistationes:
Sum be service and diligence,
Sum be continuall residence.
Sum one his substance dois abyd
Quhill fortoune do for him provyd.
Sum singis, sum dances, sum tellis storyis,
Sum lait at evin bringis in the Moryis.
Sum flirdis, sum fenyeis, and sum flatteris,
Sum playis the fuill and all owt clatteris.
Sum man, musand be the waw,
Luikis as he mycht nocht do with aw.
Sum standis in a nuk and rownes.
For covetyce aneuthair neir swownes.
Sum beris as he wald ga wud
For hait desyr of wardis gud.
Sum at the Mes leves all devocione
And besy labouris for premocione.
Sum hes thair advocattis in chalmir
And takis thameselff thairoff no glawmir.
My sempillnes, amang the laiff,
Wait of na way, sa God me saiff,
Bot with ane hummble cheir and face
Refferis me to the kyngis grace.
Methink his gracious countenance
In ryches is my sufficiance.
46. To the King
[Schir, ye have mony servitouris]
Schir, ye have mony servitouris
And officiaris of dyvers curis:
Kirkmen, courtmen, and craftismen fyne,
Doctouris in jure and medicyne,
Divinouris, rethoris, and philosophouris,
Astrologis, artistis, and oratouris,
Men of armes and vailyeand knychtis
And mony uther gudlie wichtis,
Musicianis, menstralis, and mirrie singaris,
Chevalouris, cawandaris, and flingaris,
Cunyouris, carvouris, and carpentaris,
Beildaris of barkis and ballingaris,
Masounis lyand upon the land
And schipwrichtis hewand upone the strand,
Glasing wrichtis, goldsmythis, and lapidaris,
Pryntouris, payntouris, and potingaris -
And all of thair craft cunning
And all at anis lawboring,
Quhilk pleisand ar and honorable
And to your hienes profitable
And richt convenient for to be
With your hie regale majestie,
Deserving of your grace most ding
Bayth thank, rewarde, and cherissing.
And thocht that I amang the laif
Unworthy be ane place to have
Or in thair nummer to be tald,
Als lang in mynd my work sall hald,
Als haill in everie circumstance,
In forme, in mater, and substance,
But wering or consumptioun,
Roust, canker, or corruptioun
As ony of thair werkis all,
Suppois that my rewarde be small.
Bot ye sa gracious ar and meik
That on your hienes followis eik
Aneuthir sort more miserabill
Thocht thai be nocht sa profitable:
Fenyeouris, fleichouris, and flatteraris,
Cryaris, craikaris, and clatteraris,
Soukaris, groukaris, gledaris, gunnaris,
Monsouris of France (gud clarat cunnaris),
Inopportoun askaris of Yrland kynd,
And meit revaris lyk out of mynd,
Scaffaris and scamleris in the nuke,
And hall huntaris of draik and duik,
Thrimlaris and thristaris as thai war woid,
Kokenis, and kennis na man of gude,
Schulderaris and schovaris that hes no schame
And to no cunning that can clame,
And can non uthir craft nor curis
Bot to mak thrang, schir, in your duris,
And rusche in quhair thay counsale heir
And will at na man nurtir leyr;
In quintiscence eik, ingynouris joly
That far can multiplie in folie -
Fantastik fulis, bayth fals and gredy,
Of toung untrew and hand evill diedie.
Few dar of all this last additioun
Cum in Tolbuyth without remissioun.
And thocht this nobill cunning sort -
Quhom of befoir I did report -
Rewardit be, it war bot ressoun;
Thairat suld no man mak enchessoun.
Bot quhen the uther fulis nyce
That feistit at Cokelbeis gryce
Ar all rewardit, and nocht I,
Than on this fals warld I cry "Fy!"
My hart neir bristis than for teyne,
Quhilk may nocht suffer nor sustene
So grit abusioun for to se
Daylie in court befoir myn e.
And yit more panence wald I have,
Had I rewarde amang the laif.
It wald me sumthing satisfie
And les of my malancolie,
And gar me mony falt ourse
That now is brayd befoir myn e.
My mind so fer is set to flyt
That of nocht ellis I can endyt.
For owther man my hart tobreik,
Or with my pen I man me wreik
And sen the tane most nedis be -
Into malancolie to de,
Or lat the vennim ische all out -
Be war anone, for it will spout,
Gif that the tryackill cum nocht tyt
To swage the swalme of my dispyt.
47. To the King
[Complane I wald]
Complane I wald, wist I quhome till,
Or unto quhome darett my bill:
Quhidder to God that all thing steiris,
All thing seis, and all thing heiris,
And all thing wrocht in dayis seveyne,
Or till His Moder, Quein of Heveyne,
Or unto wardlie prince heir downe
That dois for justice weir a crownne -
Of wrangis and of gryt injuris
That nobillis in thar dayis induris,
And men of vertew and cuning,
Of wit and wysdome in gydding,
That nocht cane in this cowrt conquys
For lawté, luiff, nor lang servys.
Bot fowll jow-jowrdane-hedit jevellis,
Cowkin kenseis and culroun kevellis,
Stuffettis, strekouris, and stafische strummellis,
Wyld haschbaldis, haggarbaldis, and hummellis,
Druncartis, dysouris, dyvowris, drevellis,
Misgydit memberis of the Devellis,
Mismad mandragis of mastis strynd,
Crawdones, couhirttis, and theiffis of kynd,
Blait-mouit bladyeanes with bledder cheikis
Clubfacet clucanes with clutit breikis,
Chuff midding churllis, cuming of cart fillaris
Gryt glaschewe-hedit gorge-millaris,
Evill horrible monsteris, fals and fowll.
Sum causles clekis till him ane cowll,
Ane gryt convent fra syne to tys,
And he himselff exampill of vys,
Enterand for geir and no devocioun.
The Devill is glaid of his promocioun.
Sum ramyis ane rokkat fra the roy
And dois ane dastart destroy,
And sum that gaittis ane personage
Thinkis it a present for a page,
And on no wayis content is he
"My lord" quhill that he callit be.
Bot quhow is he content or nocht
(Deme ye abowt into yowr thocht)
The lerit sone of erll or lord
Upone this ruffie to remord,
That with ald castingis hes him cled,
His erandis for to ryne and red
(And he is maister native borne
And all his eldaris him beforne,
And mekle mair cuning be sic thre
Hes to posseid ane dignité),
Saying his odius ignorance
Panting ane prelottis countenance,
Sa far above him set at tabell
That wont was for to muk the stabell -
Ane pykthank in a prelottis clais
With his wavill feit and wirrok tais,
With hoppir hippis and henches narrow
And bausy handis to beir a barrow;
With lut schulderis and luttard bak
Quhilk Natur maid to beir a pak;
With gredy mynd and glaschane gane,
Mell-hedit lyk ane mortar stane,
Fenyeing the feris of ane lord
(And he ane strumbell, I stand ford)
And he evirmoir as he dois rys,
Nobles of bluid he dois dispys,
And helpis for to hald thame downe
That thay rys never to his renowne.
Thairfoir, O prince maist honorable,
Be in this meter merciabill,
And to thy auld servandis haff e,
That lang hes lipinit into thee.
Gif I be ane of tha mysell,
Throw all regiones hes bein hard tell,
Of quhilk my wrytting witnes beris.
And yete thy danger ay me deris.
Bot efter danger cumis grace,
As hes bein herd in mony plece.
48. To the King
[Exces of thocht dois me mischeif]
Schir, yit remember as befoir
How that my youthe is done forloir
In your service with pane and greiff.
Gud conscience cryis reward thairfoir.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeif.
Your clarkis ar servid all aboute,
And I do lyke ane rid halk schout
To cum to lure that hes na leif,
Quhair my plumis begynnis to mowt.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
Forget is ay the falcounis kynd,
Bot ever the myttell is hard in mynd;
Quhone the gled dois the peirtrikis preiff,
The gentill goishalk gois undynd.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
The pyat withe the pairtie cote
Feynyeis to sing the nychtingale note,
Bot scho cannot the corchet cleiff
For hasknes of hir carleche throte.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
Ay fairast feddiris hes farrest foulis.
Suppois thai have na sang bot yowlis,
In sylver caiges thai sit at cheif;
Kynd native nestis dois clek bot owlis.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
O gentill egill, how may this be -
Quhilk of all foulis dois heast fle -
Your leggis, quhy do ye not releif
And chirreis thame eftir thair degré?
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
Quhone servit is all uther man,
Gentill and sempill of everie clan -
Kyne of Rauf Colyard and Johnne the Reif -
Nothing I gett nor conqueis can.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeif.
Thocht I in courte be maid refuse
And have few vertewis for to ruse,
Yit am I cum of Adame and Eve
And fane wald leif as utheris dois.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeif.
Or I suld leif in sic mischance,
Giff it to God war na grevance,
To be ane pykthank I wald preif,
For thai in warld wantis na plesance.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeif.
In sum pairt of myselffe I pleinye
Quhone utheris dois flattir and feynye;
Allace, I can bot ballattis breif.
Sic barnheid leidis my brydill reynye:
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
I grant my service is bot lycht.
Thairfoir, of meryce and not of rycht
I ask you, schir, no man to greiff,
Sum medecyne gif that ye mycht.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
Nane can remeid my maledie
Sa weill as ye, schir, veralie.
With ane benefice ye may preiff,
And gif I mend not haistalie,
Exces of thocht lat me mischeif.
I wes in youthe on nureice kne
Cald "dandillie, bischop, dandillie."
And quhone that age now dois me greif
A sempill vicar I cannot be.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeif.
Jok that wes wont to keip the stirkis
Can now draw him ane cleik of kirkis
With ane fals cairt into his sleif
Worthe all my ballattis under the byrkis.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeif.
Twa curis or thre hes uplandis Michell
With dispensationis in ane knitchell,
Thocht he fra nolt had new tane leif.
He playis with totum and I with nychell.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
How sould I leif, and I not landit,
Nor yit withe benefice am blandit?
I say not, schir, yow to repreiff,
Bot doutles I go rycht neirhand it.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
As saule into Purgatorie,
Leifand in pane with hoip of glorie,
So is myselffe, ye may beleiff,
In hoip, schir, of your adjutorie.
Exces of thocht dois me mischeiff.
49. To the King
[That I suld be ane Yowllis yald]
Schir, lat it never in toune be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.9
Suppois I war ane ald jaid aver,
Schott furth our clewch to squische the clever,
And hed the strenthis of all Strenever,
I wald at Youll be housit and stald:
Schir, lat it never in toune be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.
I am ane auld hors, as ye knaw,
That ever in duill dois drug and draw.
Gryt court hors puttis me fra the staw,
To fang the fog be firthe and fald.
Schir, lat it never in toune be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.
I heff run lang furth in the field
On pastouris that ar plane and peld.
I mycht be now tein in for eild,
My bekis ar spruning, he and bald.
Schir, lat it never in toune be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.
My maine is turned into quhyt,
And thairof ye heff all the wyt.
Quhen uthair hors hed brane to byt,
I gat bot gris, grype giff I wald.
Schir, lat it never in towne be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.
I was never dautit into stabell.
My lyff hes bein so miserabell,
My hyd to offer I am abell
For evill schoud strae that I reiv wald.
Schir, lat it never in towne be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.
And yett, suppois my thrift be thyne,
Gif that I die your aucht within
Lat nevir the soutteris have my skin,
With uglie gumes to be gnawin.
Schir, lat it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.
The court hes done my curage cuill
And maid me ane forriddin muill.
Yett to weir trapperis at the Yuill,
I wald be spurrit at everie spald.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.
Now lufferis cummis with larges lowd.
Quhy sould not palfrayis thane be prowd,
Quhen gillettis wil be schomd and schroud
That riddin ar baith with lord and lawd?
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.
Quhen I was young and into ply
And wald cast gammaldis to the sky,
I had beine bocht in realmes by,
Had I consentit to be sauld.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tauld
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.
With gentill hors quhen I wald knyp,
Thane is thair laid on me ane quhip.
To colleveris than man I skip
That scabbit ar, hes cruik and cald.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.
Thocht in the stall I be not clappit,
As cursouris that in silk beine trappit,
With ane new hous I wald be happit
Aganis this Crysthinmes for the cald.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.
Respontio Regis
Efter our wrettingis, thesaurer,
Tak in this gray hors, auld Dumbar,
Quhilk in my aucht with service trew
In lyart changeit is his hew.
Gar hows him new aganis this Yuill
And busk him lyk ane bischopis muill,
For with my hand I have indost
To pay quhatevir his trappouris cost.
50. Of People Hard to Please
Four maner of folkis ar evill to pleis.
Ane is that riches hes and eis,
Gold, silver, cattell, cornis, and ky,
And wald have part fra utheris by.
Aneuther is of land and rent
So great ane lord and ane potent
That he may nother rewll nor gy,
Yet he wald have fra utheris by.
Ane is that hes of nobill bluid
Ane lusty lady, fair and guid,
Boith verteous, wyse, and womanly,
And yett wald have aneuther by.
Aneuther dois so dourlie drink,
And aill and wyne within him sink,
Quhill in his wame no roume be dry,
Bot he wald have fra utheris by.
In earth no wicht I can perseav
Of guid so great aboundance have,
Nor in this world so welthful wy,
Bot he wald have frome utheris by.
Bot yitt of all this gold and guid
Or uthir cunyie, to concluid,
Quhaevir it have, it is not I.
It gois frome me to utheris by.
And nemlie at this Chrystis Mes,
Quharevir Schir Gold maid his regres.
Of him I will na larges cry,
He yeid fra me till utheris by.
Of him I will na larges cry,
He yeid fra me till utheris by.
51. The Antichrist
Lucina schyning in silence of the nycht,
The hevyn all being full of sterris bricht,
To bed I went, bot thair I tuke no rest.
With havie thocht so sair I wes opprest
That sair I langit eftir the dayis licht.
Of Fortoun I complenit havalie
That scho to me stude so contrariouslie,
And at the last, quhone I had turnit oft,
For werynes on me a slumer soft
Come with a dreming and a fantasie.
Me thocht Dame Fortoun with a fremmit cheir
Stude me beforne, and said on this maneir:
"Thow suffir me to wirk gif thow do weill,
And preis thee not to stryve aganis my quheill,
Quhilk everie wardlie thing dois turne and steir.
"Full mony ane I set upone the heycht,
And makis mony full law doun to lycht.
Upone my stagis or that thow do ascend,
Traist wele thi trouble is neir at ane end,
Seing thir takynnis; quhairfoir thow mark thame richt.
"Thy trublit gaist sall never be degest,
Nor thow into no benefice possest,
Quhill that ane abbot him cleythe in eirnis pennys
And fle up in the air amang the crennys,
And as a falcoun fair fro eist to west.
"He sall ascend as ane horrible griphoun.
Him meit sall in the air ane scho dragoun.
Thir terribill monsturis sall togiddir thrist,
And in the cluddis get the Antechrist,
Quhill all the air infect of thair poysoun.
"Undir Saturnus fyrie regioun
Symon Magus sall meit him, and Mahoun,
And Merleyn at the mune sall him be bydand,
And Jonet the Wedo on a busum hame rydand,
Of wytchis with ane wondrus garesoun.
"And syne thai sall discend with reik and fyre,
And preiche in eird the Antechristis impyre;
And than it sal be neir the warldis end."
With that this ladie did schortlie fra me wend.
Sleipand and walkand wes frustrat my desyre.
Quhone I awoyk, my dreme it wes so nyce,
Fra everie wicht I hid it as a vyce,
Quhill I hard tell be mony suthfast wy,
Fle wald ane abbot up into the sky
And all his feddrem maid wes at devyce.
Within my hert confort I tuke full sone.
"Adew," quod I, "My drerie dayis ar done.
Full weill I wist to me wald never cum thrift
Quhill that twa munis wer first sene in the lift,
Or quhill ane abbot flew abone the moyne."
52. To the Lord Treasurer
[Welcome, my awin lord thesaurair]
I thocht lang quhill sum lord come hame,10
Fra quhome faine kyndnes I wald clame.
His name of confort I will declair:
Welcome, my awin lord thesaurair!
Befoir all rink of this regioun,
Under our roy of most renoun,
Of all my mycht, thocht it war mair,
Welcom, my awin lord thesaurair!
Your nobill payment I did assay,
And ye hecht sone, without delay,
Againe in Edinburgh till repair:
Welcom, my awin lord thesaurair!
Ye keipit tryst so winder weill,
I hald yow trew as ony steill.
Neidis nane your payment till dispair:
Welcom, my awin lord thesaurair!
Yett in a pairt I was agast,
Or ye the narrest way had past
Fra toun of Stirling to the air.
Welcom, my awin lord thesaurair!
Thane had my dyt beine all in duill,
Had I my wage wantit quhill Yuill,
Quhair now I sing with heart onsair:
Welcum, my awin lord thesaurair!
Welcum, my benefice and my rent,
And all the lyflett to me lent,
Welcum, my pensioun most preclair:
Welcum, my awin lord thesaurair!
Welcum als heartlie as I can,
My awin dear maister, to your man,
And to your servand singulair:
Welcum, my awin lord thesaurair!
53. To the Lords of Chalker
My Lordis of Chalker, pleis yow to heir
My coumpt, I sall it mak yow cleir
But ony circumstance or sonyie;
For left is nether corce nor cunyie
Of all that I tuik in the yeir.
For rekkyning of my rentis and roumes
Yie neid not for to tyre your thowmes,
Na for to gar your countaris clink,
Na paper for to spend nor ink,
In the ressaveing of my soumes.
I tuik fra my lord thesaurair
Ane soume of money for to wair.
I cannot tell yow how it is spendit,
Bot weill I waitt that it is endit,
And that me think ane coumpte our sair.
I trowit, the tyme quhen that I tuik it,
That lang in burgh I sould have bruikit.
Now the remanes ar eith to turs -
I have na preiff heir bot my purs,
Quhilk wald not lie and it war luikit.
54. A Ballad of the Friar of Tungland
As yung Aurora with cristall haile
In orient schew hir visage paile,
A swevyng swyth did me assaile
Of sonis of Sathanis seid.
Me thocht a Turk of Tartary
Come throw the boundis of Barbary
And lay forloppin in Lumbardy
Full lang in waithman weid.
Fra baptasing for to eschew,
Thair a religious man he slew
And cled him in his abeit new,
For he couth wryte and reid.
Quhen kend was his dissimulance
And all his cursit govirnance,
For feir he fled and come in France,
With littill of Lumbard leid.
To be a leiche he fenyt him thair,
Quhilk mony a man micht rew evirmair,
For he left nowthir seik nor sair
Unslane or he hyne yeid.
Vane organis he full clenely carvit.
Quhen of his straik so mony starvit,
Dreid he had gottin that he desarvit,
He fled away gud speid.
In Scotland than the narrest way
He come his cunnyng till assay.
To sum man thair it was no play,
The preving of his sciens.
In pottingry he wrocht grit pyne,
He murdreist mony in medecyne.
The Jow was of a grit engyne,
And generit was of gyans.
In leichecraft he was homecyd.
He wald haif, for a nycht to byd,
A haiknay and the hurt manis hyd,
So meikle he was of myance.
His yrnis was rude as ony rawchtir.
Quhair he leit blude it was no lawchtir.
Full mony instrument for slawchtir
Was in his gardevyance.
He cowth gif cure for laxatyve
To gar a wicht hors want his lyve.
Quhaevir assay wald, man or wyve,
Thair hippis yeid hiddy giddy.
His practikis nevir war put to preif
Bot suddane deid or grit mischeif.
He had purgatioun to mak a theif
To dee withowt a widdy.
Unto no Mes pressit this prelat
For sound of sacring bell nor skellat.
As blaksmyth bruikit was his pallatt
For battering at the study.
Thocht he come hame a new maid channoun,
He had dispensit with matynnis channoun.
On him come nowther stole nor fannoun
For smowking of the smydy.
Me thocht seir fassonis he assailyeit
To mak the quintessance, and failyeit.
And quhen he saw that nocht availyeit,
A fedrem on he tuke,
And schupe in Turky for to fle.
And quhen that he did mont on he,
All fowill ferleit quhat he sowld be,
That evir did on him luke.
Sum held he had bene Dedalus,
Sum the Menatair marvelus,
Sum Martis blaksmyth, Vulcanus,
And sum Saturnus kuke.
And evir the tuschettis at him tuggit,
The rukis him rent, the ravynis him druggit,
The hudit crawis his hair furth ruggit,
The hevin he micht not bruke.
The myttane and Sanct Martynis fowle
Wend he had bene the hornit howle,
Thay set aupone him with a yowle
And gaif him dynt for dynt.
The golk, the gormaw, and the gled
Beft him with buffettis quhill he bled,
The sparhalk to the spring him sped
Als fers as fyre of flynt,
The tarsall gaif him tug for tug,
A stanchell hang in ilka lug,
The pyot furth his pennis did rug,
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